


The Weazl Paradox: Confess

by shutupeccles



Series: The Weazl Paradox [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Coming Out, Falling In Love, First Love, Friendship/Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Original Fiction, Redemption, Sexual Content, Sexual Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 77,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupeccles/pseuds/shutupeccles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1975 in the UK. While it's no longer illegal to be gay that doesn't necessarily make it okay.<br/>According to parents and friends, Derek Landon is destined to be School Captain and family champion. Derek wants to achieve all that but he also wants to get close to the most notorious homosexual punk in the year below and that becomes his priority.<br/>Archie Tanner, known as Weazl to members of his gang and fans of his band Arse, has no problem accepting Derek's advances even though he knows Derek isn't out. That begins to cause friction as their relationship becomes more serious.<br/>Then there's Derek's best friend Jonathon, who Derek begins to notice is also rather dishy. Jonathon seems to be up to his armpits in potential girlfriends and is becoming far more out going around Weazl's gang while Derek isn't game to talk to his boyfriend in public. Derek is too busy seducing his punk to delve deeply enough into Jonathon's problems (which he suspects include drug use) which he will come to regret when he is publicly outed in front of his friends and finds himself without Jonathon's support.<br/>Romance shattered, Derek drops out of school and forges ahead as he seeks redemption. Jonathon helps him find it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Opening the gate

 

* * *

_I love you Sweetheart, and I’m sorry._

_Derek ‘Angel’ Landon_

 

* * *

January - March 1975

This specific horseshoe seating arrangement had been dubbed the Captains Bench due to the number of high-achieving model students who sat there during breaks, and it slowly inched closer to the Wild Wood—a title used by a gang of miscreants from the year below who gathered beneath a twisted tree. The distance between them literally closed by an inch per day because Derek Landon arrived before the first bus every morning in order to shift the seats.

It took nearly two months for one of his peers from the Captains Bench to exclaim: “How on Earth did we end up here?”

Derek shrugged with the rest of them as a feral boy with varicoloured spiked hair drily suggested “continental drift” across the ever decreasing gap. Nothing in Derek’s manner showed that getting closer to this particular feral was the motivation behind said continental drift. Derek generally preferred subtle, which made his yearning to be near the brashest male in school doubly troubling. If his friends suspected Derek fancied males at all…But this one was irresistible, constantly haunting Derek’s thoughts for almost two years with a boisterous laugh and wit sharper than his mouth. Derek needed to befriend him, although he knew he’d never dare take it further. That punk would never return Derek’s interest anyway. They were too different. Being near him would have to be enough.

There were only two plausible ways for Derek to instigate a friendship with the untamed Mr Tanner: a) this subtle scheme or b) fortnightly detentions. Regular afternoons in the detention room _might_ put them on a first name basis, _might_ lead to accidental physical contact, but would **definitely** destroy Derek’s chances of becoming a prefect.

Leaving one plausible option…which was currently in jeopardy as Jonathon lifted the end of one seat, intent on returning the Captains Bench to its original location. Until the phrase ‘left nipple pierced’ travelled across the gap via gossiping Wild Wood females. “Did anyone hear who that was about?” Jonathon asked quietly. He set the seat back down after receiving a unanimous negative. “Oh well, we’re here now,” he said and then sat.

Derek sat beside him before their friends could convince the others to move.

The Captains Bench crept toward the Wild Wood twice as fast after that. Jonathon asked Derek to help shift it closer each afternoon. Derek was too relieved to ask why.

March 1975

“You, Derek Landon,” Jonathon began enigmatically as they performed the ritual continental drift, “are a complete spunk.”

Derek dropped his end of the bench seat and it narrowly missed his foot. “I beg your pardon.” His heart didn’t know whether to stop or beat faster.

“It says so on the Wild and Woody tree.” Jonathon pointed to words jaggedly carved into the bark: _DEREK LANDON IS A COMPLETE SPUNK_.

“So it does.”

“Poor tree has rather poor taste.” Jonathon teased Derek natural aplomb. Derek grinned as he pointed out another example of similar vandalism.

“Indeed it has, for I see the same someone refers to _you_ as a Dead Set Spunk.”

“There’s no mistaking the ‘complete spunk’ is you, whereas that only says ‘Steward is a Dead Set Spunk’ and most probably refers to Duncan, the family tart.”

Derek laughed and swallowed the reply that Jonathon was far spunkier than his older brother.

April 1975

The foundation of Derek and Jonathon’s friendship was their similar sense of humour which led to all manner of silly routines involving wordplay or physical raillery. But then the two social groups formed overlapping subsets based on shared tastes for tobacco, sporting teams, and popular culture, and Jonathon established a routine in which Derek was merely a peripheral participant. It niggled.

“Hello everyone,” Jonathon cheerily greeted the extended collective at the start of each break. Only members of the Captains Bench and Stephanie Moody, the lone Wild Wood student in the same year as the Benchers, responded to his initial salutation so Jonathon reprimanded the delinquents for their poor manners. “Apart from the lovely Miss Moody of course,” he amended with a smile. Stephanie smiled back.

Derek, Nigel and Andrew expected Jonathon to be pounded into crumbs but then Tanner responded with a boisterous “How remiss of us Mr Steward! Say hello children” and his minions obeyed. Now everyone replied with “Hello Steward”, “Hey there you”, “Jonathon”, “Why hello again” or “Dr Livingstone I presume?”

Derek envied Jonathon this ritual and admired his persistence. ‘Hey’ might be all some of these people said to Jonathon in a week, but he was the only Captains Bencher that all nine members of the Wild Wood spoke to. He acknowledged those he passed in the corridor, canteen line or away from school, whether they were alone or in a collective and was never ignored, whereas Derek developed chronic stage fright in their vicinity, every time. If not for Jonathon’s consistent effort to blur the boundaries Derek probably wouldn’t speak at all during breaks. The determination which drove him to disturb the seating was constantly strangled by the fear of looking a complete tit in front of the one he wanted to sit next to, put an arm around and kiss until the next bell rang—instead of standing around like a dolt, as he was now.

“Sit down old chap. Your privates are blocking one’s view of the handball,” Jonathon told him. Derek sat between his Dead Set Spunky friend and the enticing feral, noting how they represented either end of the social spectrum, and staunchly ignored the unexpected jittering in his extremities.

“Thank you,” they said before their attention shifted completely to the nearest game. Tanner’s response was merely a half-beat behind Jonathon’s. It was the first time their eyes met and he’d spoken directly to Derek. Hazel, his eyes were the greenish-brown described as hazel. And he was smothered in freckles.

“My pleasure,” Derek replied as his hormones etched this moment into their memory.

May 1975

Jonathon and Kennelly-Most-Foul exclaimed over the girl-on-girl nudie magazines provided by the fascinating feral’s best mate. Cheng Kane Jin’s uncle produced them along with hard-core M-F. Cheng became every boy’s new best friend for distributing whatever couldn’t be sold due to incorrect stapling or some other fault. The object of Derek’s daydreams and the majority of girls refused to peruse Cheng’s wares, so Derek sat with them on distribution day.

“Come to join the other prudes Mr Goody-Goody?” asked Claire.

“Told you, Landon’s got no vices, he’s boringly perfect. Or is that perfectly boring?” The Irresistible Mr Tanner punctuated his comment with a smirk.

“This is a cover. A-Grade honour roll student by day, vigilante ninja assassin by night. Once I’m Head Boy I begin picking off teachers one by one. No-one will ever suspect me,” Derek said conspiratorially and Tanner laughed.

“Perhaps he’s a poof too. Can you tell when another guy’s a poof, Weazl?” Stephanie asked Tanner. Her jovial tone stopped Derek panicking at her words. She’d merely been teasing her friend, not exposing Derek.

Tanner nodded. “I’ve got a special decoder ring, want to see?” He stood, unfastened his faded grey trousers and flashed his bum, causing the girls to squeal with laughter.

“I’m blind!”

“Put it away!”

Derek knew he’d be thinking of that exposed and sparsely freckled dome for nights to come.

“Tanner, detention after school today!” barked the teacher on duty. Smut was immediately stashed up shirts.

“Shit, not on Payday!” Tanner hoisted his second hand trousers back into position and did them up as he ran after the teacher. The entire Wild Wood tensed like stretched rubber bands and turned to watch.

“What?” Jonathon asked, wondering why the collective mood suddenly flipped from horny to thorny.

“That arsehole knows Weazl can’t stay back today, they all do.” Kennelly began to explain further but Cheng kicked his ankle. Kennelly mouthed ‘tell you later’ to Jonathon, who nodded and joined the concerned spectators.

Derek watched along as a senior teacher was called into play. After some negotiation, Tanner strolled back as if they’d simply discussed the weather.

“Sorted?” Cheng asked Tanner.

“I’ve got to do it tomorrow so no rehearsal after school. Can you tell Wren?” Tanner asked.  Cheng nodded. “Maybe you should forget to tell her and make better use of that time instead.” Tanner performed a mime of snogging.

Cheng flipped him the finger.

“We’d go over and keep him off her until you got home mate, you know that right? You don’t need to let those twats know what goes on.” Kennelly sounded like they were a pack of bodyguards.

“What does go on?” Derek asked. Was Wren Tanner’s sister? Who did they need to keep off her? Why?

“Shadow puppets in the park at four o’clock, can’t miss that,” Tanner quipped without looking at anyone. The end of lunch bell rang and the Wild Wood formed a subtly protective entourage around their leader.

Derek had learned three things in as many minutes. Tanner’s friends called him Weazl, so it wasn’t just a stage name concocted for that awful band he played with. Every member of the Wild Wood was fiercely loyal to him. And Derek was in love.

June 1975

Derek didn’t stare or ogle like girls did, didn’t show off to get Tanner’s attention or make any effort to talk to him. He sat with his friends and behaved as usual around them while listening mostly to Tanner. He refused to refer to him as Weazl. Such familiarity might lead to something dangerous, like flirting, and then everyone would know the real reason Derek Landon didn’t fool around with girls. Goodbye School Captaincy, bon voyage Scholarship, fare thee well Reputation and Respectability.

Tanner was loud, crude and opinionated. He smoked, swore, and played truant. He stole, set fires and got into fights. He made Derek think, sweat and smile behind a mask of disinterest. Mostly, Tanner made Derek hard.

Three Paydays plus one day after the unforgettable decoder ring incident, and Tanner was absent. The tightly wound Wild Wood implied this wasn’t his usual ‘can’t be arsed’ truancy.

“Where’s Tanner?” Derek asked.

Kennelly told Derek to do some rather unpleasant things to himself and mind his own business while he was at it.

Cheng answered shortly but without being rude. “Hospital, broken leg, he’ll be off school for a few weeks.”

Derek wanted to ask what happened but dared not since he barely interacted with the object of his affection. “So he won’t make it to Presentation Night?” he asked instead. Derek had been elected Head Boy for next year and had to host the evening with next year’s Head Girl. He knew Tanner was set to receive a writing award and looked forward to seeing him dressed up. Not that he planned to act out any of the fantasies associated with such imagery, especially not the ‘hand him his award and then kiss him in front of everyone with a hand firmly grasping his bum’ scene. Tanner would do something like that. Two years ago (and eleven weeks after he began featuring heavily in Derek’s dreams) Tanner kissed another boy at a school dance. They both received one month of after school detention as a result and the older boy infamously declared it was worth it. Derek believed it almost could be.

“He might get there, if cock-cheese gets put away long enough this time,” Dawn replied, obviously irate.

“If _what?”_ Jonathon asked gleefully. He enjoyed these Wild and Woody turns of phrase.  Derek found his amusement in this particular instance inappropriate. The Wild Wood agreed.

“Cock-cheese—Weazl’s father,” Stephanie stated bluntly.

“Tanner’s father put him in hospital?” Jonathon was horrified by this revelation and solemnly apologised for his previous hilarity.

Derek approached Cheng as everyone headed their separate ways to class. “Is there anything we can do to help?”

“That depends.” Cheng hung back and lowered his voice so only Derek heard. “If you’re straight, sit where he can’t see or hear you. If you’re interested, a snog and a touch up should make the pain go away for a while, hint-hint, wink-wink. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

July 1975

Derek remained unsure what action to take in response to Cheng’s information, apart from ‘Mustn’t tell anyone!’

Tanner’s continued absence didn’t help. _Should I ask Cheng for Tanner’s telephone number? No, then he’ll know and he might have been joking. As if Tanner would be interested in someone like me! What if he is?_

Tanner’s unheralded appearance at the presentation rehearsal made Derek’s heart beat like white crested waves crashing against jagged rocks, and not because Tanner’s right leg was in a cast from foot to upper thigh. Derek had missed him, simple as that.

“Can you manage the stairs?” Derek kept his verbal concern official while every thought screamed _‘Kiss him!’_

“Is your pretty co-host offering to carry me if I can’t?”

Derek felt a prickle of jealousy despite knowing blatantly homosexual Tanner had no interest in Lisa Gannet. “No, we’ll just bring it down to you.”

“Like they do for the retards? Sod that.”

“ _Retards_ , really? I thought you disapproved of segregation, inequality and injustice. Or is that simply spruiking to bring customers into that dreary club your dreadful band plays at?”

“Are you calling me a hypocrite?”

“Are you behaving like one?”

Tanner surprised him by laughing and suggesting a compromise. “I hobble halfway up then you, Miss Pretty, or whoever, swans halfway down.”

“Sensible plan,” Derek agreed.

“Don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to uphold.”

Derek wished _he_ didn’t have a reputation to uphold. He’d rather hold Tanner, tell him he’s brilliant and captivating then suggest finding a secluded location where they can make out for an hour or three. But he didn’t do any of those things, merely continued with preparations.

16 July 1975 – presentation night

Audience members stopped feigning politeness and absconded during the school orchestra’s medley of mediocrity. Derek left the stage to take an unscheduled refreshments break under the pretence of rounding up deserters, and spotted Tanner standing by an empty stairwell with a woman who resembled him too greatly to be anyone but his mother or older sister.

The woman touched Tanner’s uncoloured red hair and freckled cheek with a mixture of concern and pride, an entirely maternal gesture. Her smile was radiantly happy for her son’s success, her eyes haunted. Derek wanted to hold Tanner’s hand and promise his mother he’d look after him. He wanted to kiss and touch him, make love to him and call him ‘Sweetheart’.

Tanner saw him and looked the opposite way, stepping awkwardly away from his mother. Derek smiled while internally laughing at an incurable delinquent embarrassed by public maternal affection. Tanner’s mother looked curiously at Derek then spoke to her son with a small, teasing smile. Tanner shrugged in response to her comment, eyes still to the wall.

She turned to Derek. “Excuse me, could you direct me to the ladies room?”

“Mum…”

“You can be left unsupervised for five minutes. Perhaps the new Head Boy can ensure you don’t fall up or down any stairs. My name is Deborah by the way, I’m Archie’s Mum. Or do you know him as Weazl? Good thing Donald didn’t call him Fart-bum in prep school, that wouldn’t be a very intimidating gang name now, would it?”

“We’re not a gang. Just go woman, before you humiliate me completely!”

Deborah laughed brightly at her son as she wandered away.

“How’s your leg holding up?” Derek asked.

“Good enough. I’m heading out for a smoke so I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Derek watched him leave, counted to seventeen and then followed him. He wordlessly took the unlit cigarette from Tanner’s lips and placed it between his own while taking the lighter from Tanner’s hand. It lit on the third attempt and Derek coughed smoke as he offered it butt first to its owner. Their fingers touched and he landed a bumpy kiss on Tanner’s lips.

“Sorry, not as impressively debonair as I intended.”

“Ah, so you were going for something more like…” Tanner gently pressed partially open lips to Derek’s and then followed that with a briefer contact, “…this?”

Derek couldn’t believe something so simply soft could be so profound. “Yeah, precisely like that.” He would have put both hands on Tanner and asked him to repeat the process until Derek got it right, if there was no possibility they’d get caught. They leaned back against the wall, passing the cigarette back and forth.

“If you get caught with that you were confiscating it from me,” Tanner insisted.

“Don’t want the blame for corrupting the next School Captain?”

“Fucking oath I don’t.”

“If we were anywhere else I’d ask to hold your hand.”

“Would you, or are you just saying that to get into my pants?” Tanner pointed accusingly with the cigarette.

“Hardly! It took me months to get this far.”

“Was it you then?”

“What?”

“Who started the continental drift?”

“Yes.”

“Your friends don’t know that, do they? Or that you like me this way?”

Derek shook his head in the negative. “Your mother knows about you, doesn’t she?”

Tanner nodded. “I can’t be sure about the cock-cheese. He’s been calling me faggot since I was nine. It’s scary in the beginning, not knowing who you can tell without getting a black eye, being called names, or having them tell everyone else before you’re ready.”

“Can I talk to you outside school?”

“Meaning you’ll keep not talking to me during school?” Tanner’s teasing smile contradicted his flat vocal tone. Derek smiled shyly back.

“Meaning that, and that I want to be your boyfriend or-whatever.” _I said it!_

“Boyfriend—I’ve never had an actual boyfriend before, only spontaneous snogs with strangers.” Tanner sounded timidly thrilled by the prospect of being someone’s boyfriend, which matched how Derek felt.

“I’ve never been a boyfriend before. My lack of snogging skill speaks for itself.”

Tanner smiled warmly, took some scraps of paper and half a pencil from his pocket, sorted through the scraps until he found a blank one then wrote his telephone number on it. “You’ll have to call before six thirty or he’ll answer it.” Tanner pulled a self-deprecating face while shaking his head. “Keep forgetting he’s not there, stupid isn’t it?”

“Fear always outlasts the presence of the object that inspired it.”

Tanner’s expression reminded Derek of a religious painting displayed in the junior art room, as though Tanner the Disciple watched Derek the Messiah preach the holy word. When asked to interpret the painting Jonathon said it had homosexual connotations, that Judas Iscariot was Jesus’ lover and turned Jesus over to the Romans to prevent Jesus betraying him with Peter. Derek had laughed in shock at Jonathon’s open sacrilege, Nigel loudly proclaimed it to be the most disgusting thing he’d ever heard, Andrew said “Holy shit Jon!” and they’d all been sent out. Derek hoped he’d have an opportunity to describe the incident to Tanner. For now he wanted to listen more than talk.

“How long is he away for?” Derek asked, carefully sticking with the impersonal pronoun.

“Dunno, but it’s never long enough.”

Derek reached into the shadows behind them and across until his hand brushed Tanner’s. They linked the tips of their little fingers together until silence from the school band signified the end of this particular fantasy.

17 July 1975

Tanner must have told his best mate about last night because Derek caught Cheng looking for clues in their behaviour toward each other. He just as obviously didn’t tell Kennelly, who was busily picking Jonathon’s brain for advice on picking up girls rather than inventing double entendre based on ‘Head Boy’. Tanner was his usual self, which inspired relief as well as the usual torture. If Derek hadn’t been party to those moments and spent the rest of the night reliving every contact he would have no idea that he and Tanner were ‘together’. He had to wank before going back on stage and again before school this morning because he kept imagining how it might feel to open Tanner’s mouth with his tongue and squeeze his bum with both hands.

He was doing it again.

Something Jonathon said made Tanner laugh. Derek couldn’t help smiling at his boyfriend and Tanner winked back. Cheng delivered a swift ‘thumbs up’ to Derek as the Wild Wood gathered Tanner’s crutches and bag ready for the last session of lessons.

“How’re you getting home Weazl?” Claire asked.

“Same way I arrived: slow, arduous hobble—should get there by five.”

Kennelly’s low growl defended his vehicle. “Not my fault the van needs a new clutch!”

“Need a lift Tanner?” Derek asked before Claire could make a similar offer.

“Thanks Landon, that’d be great. Where are you parked?”

“Side entrance.”

“Cheng and I’ll meet you there then.”

λ

Cheng tossed Tanner’s bag and crutches into the back of Derek’s station wagon while Tanner scooched along the backseat to sprawl with his plastered leg across the seat. It looked terribly uncomfortable.

“Aow! Cheng mate, get in the front. This isn’t as comfortable as it looks.”

“Sorry Weazl.”

The two friends were decked out in their usual anarchic hair and clothing pool uniforms. Derek felt posh by comparison, even though his turd-brown car was twenty years old with worn upholstery and a crumpled panel. Their appearances were misleading, giving the impression of uneducated vandals who liked to terrorize Granny out of her pension money, or so Derek gathered from their rapid-fire, profanity littered conversation.

Seeing Tanner last night without his hair spiked to attention with coloured hairspray or whatever he used every day did not make him any more or less appealing to Derek, only less intimidating. The way his mother worried about him made him appear vulnerable, whereas at school he was leader of a vicious pack. He fought like a devil, kissed like an angel. Who was he really? Why was Derek Landon, all round goody two shoes, boringly perfect and perfectly boring, enamoured with ‘Weazl’ Tanner? Why was Tanner interested in him?

Cheng asked these last two questions as well, only aloud and with different wording. Tanner answered first. “He’s brilliant.”

“You can’t say that! I’ll have to change my reason now.”

“It’s because I flashed my bum that day isn’t it? That’s when you started wanting me.”

“I started wanting you seventeen and a half months ago.”

“Holy shit, that continental drift is a slower process than we thought.”

Cheng turned in his seat to exclaim “And you thought I was slow putting the moves on Wren?”

“You can hit him if you want Landon. I would if I could reach.” Tanner demonstrated and Cheng leaned further out of the way with a chuckle. “You don’t get it Cheng mate, seriously. I’ve met blokes who were in their fifties and never kissed a guy before. They all looked so sad. Not pathetic, but sorrowful. Twice I’ve been saved by strangers, three times if you count Vincent and Christian. You remember those posh old blokes who bought us our decent sound equipment? Now Prince Charming is driving me home, telling me he’s fancied me for ages after giving his first kiss to me. Me! My guardian angel deserves to be paid double time.”

“We’ll give your guardian angel a Christmas bonus if the cock-cheese snuffs it,” said Cheng.

“Hell, my angel can retire to Jamaica with a harem of strippers when that happens.”

“That’s why,” Derek said quietly once they’d finished.

“What?” the punks asked as a unit.

“There’s so much going on around him and in his head all the time, like some enormous maelstrom. That’s why I couldn’t wait any longer to kiss him. I had to do it before I drowned.”

Tanner sat straight and leaned forward. “Marry me!”

“Weazl, you’re a poof,” Cheng stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh yeah. Take my virginity!”

“Do you still have that?” Cheng asked with a snort.

“Yes, I do! Stop ruining our perfect moment you arse. Throw Cheng out of the car, say that again then ravage me. On second thoughts, wait until my cast comes off and then ravage me. Or we can just go inside, you can keep saying romantic things, and I’ll kiss you until we pass out.”

“Out you go Cheng,” said Derek.

Cheng laughed, Tanner grinned and Derek wanted Tanner to kiss him until they passed out. He parked near Tanner’s small but meticulously maintained house. Cheng helped Tanner out of the backseat while Tanner denied requiring assistance to exit a vehicle on the grounds that he could walk, well, hobble—“Stop babying me!”

Derek fetched the bags and crutches from the boot.

“Does this mean I don’t have to get up at half-past too early and carry your shit in the morning?” Cheng asked, gesturing to the schoolbag in Derek’s hand.

“I’ll call you later.”

“Weazl…”

“I’ll—call—you—late—er!”

Cheng smirked. Tanner prodded him with the end of one crutch before making his awkward way up the path.

“You staying around for a bit, or what?” Tanner asked Derek as he balanced to unlock the door.

The house was sparsely furnished and incredibly tidy, with nothing out of place. Every piece of furniture was austere in its simplicity and damaged. There were no pictures or ornaments, not even a potted plant to soften the edge. Fewer projectiles, Derek concluded upon spotting recent scars on the walls. He wanted to get out, now, and take Tanner with him. Derek wondered why Tanner and his mother stayed, but didn’t ask. He said nothing as Tanner sat on one kitchen chair and rested his leg on another then swore before standing again, getting a plastic drinking glass from a cupboard and filling it from a noisy, shuddering tap. Derek made no offer to help. It would be an insult in this environment. Tanner sipped at his water, leaning back so his bum rested against the edge of the sink.

“So you’re not talking to me out of school either now?” he asked curtly.

“I don’t know what to say,” _without having my head bitten off and my intestines used to tie back the curtains_.

“Not what you expected, huh? Rethinking your offer to be my boyfriend, I bet. Thanks for the ride. You can go now.” Tanner didn’t glower or scowl. He simply stated facts as he saw them. This was his castle and he served as King or Knave depending on the hour of the day.

Derek didn’t move. “I want to know everything about you but doubt that you want to tell me anything.”

“Not yet.”

“But?”

“I want to kiss you but I don’t want…There’s a street where people like us, younger even, sell themselves. I don’t want this part of my life to be empty like that. I want it to mean something.”

“Can I…hold you, without being accused of mollycoddling?” Derek worried that the request made him appear effeminate.

“Will you try to kiss me again?” Tanner’s expression converted the question into a challenge.

“I intend to keep trying until you tell me to stop,” Derek admitted.

“Then get your arse over here and get on with it.”

Tanner was warm, his embrace firm, lips soft. His stance and subtle movements were welcoming and eager. Derek felt it all over, wanted to feel _him_ all over. They shared several short, open-mouthed kisses before a female voice preceded the sound of a key in the lock.

“Me,” Tanner’s mother called cheerily. The boys rapidly disengaged but were still standing close as Deborah pulled a children’s wagon loaded with paper grocery bags through the door. Her radiant smile didn’t exactly falter, rather evolved into mildly embarrassed cheer as she saw her son wasn’t alone. “Hello again. Sorry if I interrupted love, I’ll just leave these and...”

“Mum, it’s not…”

“Oh. I thought maybe you two—just friends? That’s a shame, there’s definitely chemistry there. Well as I’m not interrupting any canoodling, the pair of you can put this stuff in the icebox.”

“So embarrassing,” Tanner muttered. Derek remained at a loss.

“Better to be embarrassed and loved than invulnerable and alone, isn’t that what Cheng and Donald were saying when they popped round the hospital?” she asked.

“You’re not allowed to use my conversations against me.”

“I’m your mother. I can use everything against you to prove my point.” Deborah kissed her son on the top of the head and he made a half-hearted attempt to duck out of the way. “Take your friend into your room to talk if you want, with some fruit. We don’t know how long we’ve got before peace and harmony come to an end so we may as well make the most of it.”

Tanner surprised Derek by taking his hand and leading him to his room while balancing his weight against a single crutch. “You thought the rest of the house was bad, now you’ll definitely regret kissing me.” He opened the door and stood back to let Derek see inside. Tanner didn’t have a bed per se, merely a covered mattress on the floor and a small chest of drawers for his clothes. That’s all. “Changed your mind yet?”

“No. I’m interested in you, not your décor.”

“There you go, being Prince Charming again. Get in.” He opened the bottom drawer, felt around beneath it and suddenly Derek heard music from the tiny radio taped under there.

“Ingenious!”

“Thanks, Donk—Kennelly—bought it for me after my good one got pawned. Do we have to call each other by our surnames like at school? Using ‘Tanner’ and ‘Landon’ is a tad formal when our tongues will soon be getting familiar.”

“Will they?”

“They will.” Tanner proved it and they kissed until they developed breathing difficulties.

Derek’s heart beat created pulses in places unpredictable. “Will you be my sweetheart?” he whispered as Tanner relinquished his claim on Derek’s lips. “Secret I’m afraid, until I’m brave enough to let everybody know, like you.”

“Are you using me for something? ‘Straight guy seduces poof so he can join an elitist social circle’?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Because I’m out I’m a target for twats trying to prove how tough they are. Unlike most guys they pick on I give it right back. Then there’s, you know, I’m detention centre and you’re honour roll.”

“Just because I haven’t been in detention doesn’t necessarily mean I’m innocent.” Derek told the tale of the biblical painting and Tanner’s laugh brought heaven into the hellish house. “Perhaps if you got out of here you’d be honour roll too.”

“We’ve tried. He always finds us and makes it worse. I’m not leaving her alone with that.”

“You’re like alcoholic cider: strong, intoxicating and unexpectedly sweet.” Derek kissed him and this time there was nothing clumsy in his approach.

“Will you drive me to school and home again until this thing,” Tanner knocked on his plaster cast, “comes off?”

“My pleasure.”

“Ask me out again.”

“Will you be mine?” Derek asked without hesitation.

“Yes.”

They formalised it with a kiss.

18-24 July 1975

Derek and his secret sweetheart spent six of the final seven days of school ignoring each other, from the time Archie Tanner hauled his broken bones in to the car in the morning until he hauled them back out of an afternoon. Once Archie’s front door was locked behind them they kissed, talked, lay on his mattress holding hands, kissed and talked some more, whether Deborah was home or out working.

“What does your Mum do?”

“Sells stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Bloody Avon, who cares?” Archie quietened Derek with a determined smooch.

λ

 “When I first drove you home you said strangers saved you three times, will you tell me about some of them?” Derek asked as they sucked ice cubes made from apple juice and read books from the school library at the kitchen table.

“The first time I was hungry, had no money, and almost did something stupid to get something to eat until a bloke named Rupert stopped me. He gave me a job at his poofter community centre. It’s called The Peacock _._ I’ll take you there one day if you like. Second time is a much longer but related story. My band that you despise so much has a sponsor because of it. Vincent doesn’t like our music, only what we say with it. He does a lot of things to help people like us realise we belong. You’d like him, he’s posh.”

“And the third time?”

“…is none of your nosy business. Here,” he tossed Derek the copy of _A Wizard of Earthsea_ he just finished. “You heard of her stuff, Ursula Le Guin? It’s pretty deep for junior fiction. Let me know when you’re near the end so we can discuss the chiaroscuro motif. You’ll see what I mean.”

Derek looked more at his boyfriend than the novel. “You’re fascinating,” he explained when questioned about this behaviour. Archie hid a smile by looking down at his current page. Derek touched the side of his sweetheart’s neck then leaned forward to kiss his lips as their eyes meet.

λ

 “How did your Mum find out? How did she react?” Derek sat across the mattress so his sweetheart could sit propped against him. The broken leg was abnormally painful and itchy because the stubborn fool put his weight on it too often during the day.

“That’s Cheng’s fault, partly. Grab the drawer above the one with the radio, you’ll find a paper bag taped underneath. There’s a thing in it.”

“Ah!” The thing was an all-male porn magazine and Derek dropped it, flushing telephone box red. Not wanting to appear a Nancy in front of his tough boy, he immediately picked it up again.

“That’s pretty much how Mum reacted. I thought a rat must have gotten in. I found her kneeling on the bed worrying over what she found, and just froze in the doorway, sure she’d be disappointed or angry and tell me to leave, or both.”

“What did she do?”

“Mum asked if I’d done any of ‘those things’ or let a man do any of them to me. She was frightened, not angry, and that freaked me out more. I just shook my head. Then she hugged me and told me not to give myself away or sell what I have but wait until I find someone to share it with because you only get one chance at a first time. It was trippy, totally weird but kind of nice. Mum said to make sure cock-cheese never found out and showed me how to hide stuff where he wouldn’t look, especially money and,” he pointed, “that.”

Derek wanted to look but not as much as he didn’t want to look. A single page contained more concepts than he was prepared to deal with just yet. He was still coming to terms with thinking of touching this youth he’d fallen in love with. _I’m not like them,_ we’re _not like them_.

“How, when, how did you know?” Derek asked shyly. _Are we like them?_

“How did you?” Archie turned the question back onto Derek.

“When I couldn’t stop thinking about a particular person. I wasn’t going to do anything about it.”

“You think there’s something wrong with us?” The gentle way Archie asked made it impossible to answer dishonestly so Derek nodded. Being able to talk about this was such a relief. Archie rested a reassuring hand on Derek’s leg. “That’s what they want us to think. The guys I met at The Peacock, whether working or visiting, all said the same thing. ‘I thought I was sick’ or twisted, or something else that means unnatural. When they were our age they were so afraid, now they’re afraid of never finding someone who’ll love them. How is that different from anyone else? How is that different for us? I’m more afraid to miss a year of someone telling me he loves me than of enduring a lifetime of strangers saying they hate me.”

“You’re braver than I am.”

“It’s easier when you know there are people on your side. I’ve been luckier than most. You know my mates will bash the Captains Benchers’ heads in if they treat you like shit after you come out?”

“You told them about me?” A lead weight dropped through the bottom of Derek’s stomach.

“Only Cheng, I can tell him anything and he won’t blab. They all knew I fancy you long before. I wouldn’t have to tell them you’re mine. They wouldn’t be my mates if they liked poofter bashers.”

“I’m not a poofter.”

Tanner sat forward so he no longer leaned against Derek. His gaze as he turned was stern, like a teacher’s. “You get hard when we kiss, I can feel it. That makes you a poofter. Do you think of me when you masturbate? When I wank I imagine it’s you doing that to me, which, because you also have a cock, makes me a poof. Gay, homo, faggot, queer, ponce, Nancy, pansy, fairy—that’s what I am Landon. Calling it something else won’t change the fact that only male humans make me horny. Are you like me or not? Because fancying a straight boy is less painful than fancying a gay boy who wants to be straight. At least then I know I’m wasting my time from the outset.”

Derek started getting to his feet.

“If you leave now, don’t bother picking me up in the morning.” Archie averted his eyes and pretended to look at his black-and-white smut. “I knew this was bollocks.”

“What am I supposed to do? Stand on the street corner like a rabid preacher and proclaim my preference for other men? Will that make me a better boyfriend for you?”

“No, just admit it to yourself, then to me. First you kiss me, then you ask me out, then you protest. Now I’m confused and that gives me the shits.”

“Everything irritates you!”

“Are we together or not?”

“I guess, not?”

“Do you want to be together?”

Derek heard this as a hopeful question as opposed to the challenges issued earlier. “Yes I do.”

“Then sit down so I can apologise for being an arse.”

λ

Archie lay with his head in Derek’s lap as Derek collapsed the towering spikes in Archie’s hair. The odd crunching noise reminded Derek of _Godzilla_ movies. His accompanying ‘rahr’ sounds and tiny ‘help me, oh no!’ phrases made Archie laugh. _Good god you’re incredible._

Archie tilted his chin to ask “Have you told anyone yet?”

Derek kept his gaze on Archie’s hair. “Only you,” he replied.

“I’m the one that matters at the moment, so you’re off to a good start.”

“Archie?” Calling him by his given name sent nervous tingles through Derek’s everything. It still felt so new and illicit.

“Yes Derek?” Hearing Archie address him by his given name sent more tingles through Derek’s everything.

“Who did you tell first?”

“Cheng.”

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

“Whoah.”

“You sound impressed.”

“I am.”

“Don’t be. We’ve known each other since we were nine. He’s seen the shit I go through up close and never let me down, otherwise,” Archie shrugged. “Case in point: Donk’s been my friend since I was seven but he didn’t find out until after I kissed Ben Watts at the school dance.”

“How did you do it, tell Cheng I mean?”

“Donk and I were at his place the day he first found those dirty magazines. You know, typical ‘you blokes, come and cop a load of this!’ I took one look and went ‘yuck’. Donk was all ‘whoh-ho-hoah!’ especially once Cheng found an all-girl one. They were busy enjoying themselves so I went home. After Donk left Cheng came round to call me a rude, moody bastard and ask what got up my arse. He’s a persistent little shit, so after we yell back and forth for a bit we both calm down and I ask—with great hesitation, mind—‘do you have any that maybe don’t have any girls in them?’ He says ‘What’d be the point of that? Then there’d just be…oh. Blokes, you sure?’ I told him not entirely. That’s why I wanted a look. He waited about three hours after giving me one before telephoning. ‘You sure yet? Because as much as I’m here for you mate, I am not letting you experiment with my man-parts.’ He was a little weird around me for a couple of months until he was certain my man-parts were never coming into contact with his. Donk can still be a fuckwit about it. Your mate Jonathon’s got no chance with Dawn or Claire by the way. They’ve been together since Easter. Not that I told you that.”

“Have you not told Claire and Dawn about us the way you didn’t just tell me about them?” Derek repeated that in his mind. It would have to do because he was already receiving a reply.

“No. I’d like to, especially since Dawn is convinced you’re straight and that I’ll spend the next year pining after you and making her life miserable as a result.”

Archie’s spikes were thoroughly flattened and his hair draped over Derek’s thigh. It must reach below his shoulders when wet. Derek’s fingers travelled down Archie’s neck, onto a shoulder, back up his neck and then slid under his collar. His lips wanted to do the same, touching and tasting. He struggled to maintain an even breathing pattern.

Hazel eyes dared him to do it while Archie’s fingers undid his school shirt, increasing the temptation. Derek spied dull metal skewering an exposed, peachy-pink nipple. He touched it. Archie arched his back with a startled, aroused gasp—and Derek came.

“I’m sorry …” he began in panicky embarrassment.

Archie pulled Derek in for a kiss with one hand while the other made itself busy manipulating the lump in Archie’s trousers. “Don’t be sorry. I want to make you come all the time,” he murmured gruffly, then groaned against Derek’s mouth.

“Did you just…?”

“Uh-huhm,” Archie nodded with a tiny yet wicked grin before stretching his back and shoulders.

“Oh god.” Derek looked to the hand now at rest under the clothing, and envied it. “Next time can, can I…?”

“Next time you can touch.”

As a result, Derek found the last day of term absolute hell.

25 July 1975

His brain failed to invent an intelligent reason for dropping out of the summer holiday he and his three closest friends planned months ago.

“Have you got a secret girlfriend you sly fox?” Andrew asked as Derek gibbered on.

“You don’t need to project a virginal façade for us Derek.”

“How long has this been going on and why didn’t you share details? What kind of best friend are you?” Jonathon decried loudly. “Who is she?” He looked around the classroom as though expecting one of the girls to put up her hand and say ‘it’s me, _giggle’_.

“Does she go to our school?” Nigel asked.

“We won’t tell your parents, they’ll drag you to Bermuda with them or worse—stay home!”

Derek found himself in a state of extreme agitation. Thankful that this conversation didn’t happen in the vicinity of the Wild Wood, knowing there’s no way he could tell them the truth here and now, guilty about being afraid, regretting his final decision which was made based entirely on the morning’s wank fantasy, embarrassed by dwelling on that wank fantasy now, wishing they would just—shut—up!

“I wish, just…stuff, okay, so leave off.”

“Repeated vocabulary failure, must be lo-ove.”

“Or sex, lots of rampant hot and naked, brain-numbing sex!” Jonathon was enjoying this far too much. “No wonder he doesn’t look at Cheng’s magazines. He’s getting the real thing.”

“I AM NOT!”

Their teacher and the entire class turned to stare. “Well I’m not,” Derek added pathetically and focused on the assigned task of cleaning out the text book cupboard, not on the picture lingering in the depths of his mind, with the memory of that satisfied grunt giving it that extra touch of reality. Not On The Picture Lingering…!

λ

“So when are you guys off on this trip of a lifetime that you’ve been boring us to death with?” Donk asked Jonathon during lunch. Derek wasn’t watching Archie play some inane slap-pinch game with Claire like a carefree five year old, only listening. The same way Archie listened to Derek and his friends without looking in their direction.

_We’re eavesdropping on each other._ That thought made Derek inappropriately horny as Jonathon answered Donk’s question.

“Five a.m. tomorrow.”

“Bikinis and boobies, here we come!” Andrew said and rubbed his hands with enthusiasm.

“Except for our Head Boy who let his newfound status stifle his ‘fun’ gene, no bikinis for him.” Nigel rarely contributed to Wild Wood conversations unrelated to the supply of porn but he could never resist an opportunity to embarrass a friend.

Derek avoided glancing at a certain person as he responded. “I look terrible in a two-piece. My hips you know.”

Cheng smiled with a hint of smirk.

“No boobies for Landon either?” asked Stephanie.

“So he says but we suspect a female motivating factor behind his self-imposed imprisonment. Only a sure thing could keep a hot-blooded male with his own wheels home for the holidays.” Nigel was a complete chatterbox today. Derek wished he’d find something to say about someone else.

“You can take his place since I’m down a bunkmate,” Jonathon suggested to Stephanie.

“Bikinis and boobies? Sounds like the perfect holiday. Can I come with Steph?” Claire asked.

“As many times as you like cutie, I guarantee it.”

Members of the Wild Wood laughed at Nigel rather than with him but none of the others from the Captains Bench realised that. Derek wondered if they ridiculed him in similar manner. Then he noticed that neither Cheng nor Archie were laughing.

“Enough.” The Wild Wood fell silent at Archie’s simple command and then looked to their leader like a pack of dogs. A few wore superior grins. “My arse is numb, help me off this stupid bench before I fall off and break a bloody arm as well. Wish the prefect defects a happy holiday children.”

The Wild Wood bestowed single finger salutes before following their maimed patriarch.

“Tosser!” Andrew exclaimed once they were safely out of earshot. If he said it earlier he would no longer have ears, or teeth. “Bunch of freaks. Why are we sitting with them again?”

“Free porn!” exclaimed Nigel.

“The chronic compulsion to discover who has their left nipple pierced?” asked Jonathon.

“Did she mean what I think she meant? Girls only get on together so we can watch, don’t they?”

“That faggot’s so full of himself he’s got no need for some other bloke’s cock!”

“Give your car a thorough clean tonight Landon.”

Derek didn’t join in, nor did he defend his boyfriend or others from the Wild Wood. He’d end his burgeoning relationship with ‘that faggot tosser freak’ after driving him home that afternoon. If he didn’t, and his friends found out, they’d say worse things about him.

Jonathon continued his original train of thought. “I suspect Dawn. Or perhaps Stephanie, she seems the type. Derek?”

Derek automatically hopped aboard. “Claire.”

Jonathon smiled rather sadly, as though grateful for Derek’s company on a lonely journey. Derek wondered which Wild Wood wench Jon was sweet on.

λ

Archie waited by the car, a storm visibly brewing as Derek approached with decreasing speed. Derek already lingered behind to be last out of the classroom and then procrastinated in the lavatory so as to be dawdling alone across the empty quadrangle. Derek didn’t think he could manage to go even slower yet the nearer he came to the car, the slower he moved. Had Archie heard what the other Benchers said? Did he hear Derek’s thoughts? Derek unlocked the doors in silence. Archie stood, looming and belligerent.

“Are you getting in?” Derek asked.

“Are you dumping me?” Archie’s question rumbled low, like an overloaded lorry off in the distance.

Derek’s mouth felt dry and shrivelled, like the object in his chest that used to be a beating heart. “What makes you say that?”

“The way you walked over here. It didn’t take me that long and I’ve only got one functioning leg. Are you breaking up with me?” He didn’t manage the menacing growl he intended. The result made an onerous task worse.

_No, yes, yes? Yes, no, yes, no, no, yes._ “I don’t want to.”

“Is someone making you?”

“Yes, no, they…My friends aren’t like yours. I can’t tell them. I can’t be gay.”

“If you change your mind, I won’t stop liking you just because you’re not ready yet.” Archie couldn’t look at him though.

Derek wanted to hold him as much as he had that morning but he didn’t want to do other things quite so much anymore. He wanted to hold Archie’s hand and trace his eyebrow with kisses. _W_ _here did that idea come from?_ The origin of the thought didn’t matter. Derek still wanted to do it. _Then his lips and then…_

“Let me drive you home, please?” Derek felt overwhelmed by contradictory thoughts and feelings in constant swarming motion. Maybe Archie could talk him through this some more. He didn’t want to use him for a sounding board. He wanted to be with him, love him. _What if I simply can’t?_ Derek stepped back in defeat as Archie balanced his weight on the crutches and swung around to the back of the car.

“You helping me with my bag or what?” Archie grunted.

Derek hoped they wouldn’t break up today after all.

λ

“See you,” Archie said while reaching for his bag.

Derek held it out of reach. “Will you?”

“Will I?”

“Can I come in?”

“No.”

“Is he free already?”

“No. Give me my bag or throw it to the door. I don’t care which. You’re not suddenly going to be jack and dory with this and I’ve got enough shit to deal with.”

“I’m only going through this because of you. I was quite content under my soft, dark blanket in my quiet, dark box in my safe, dark cupboard until you strut about being your loud, sexy self and stirring up thoughts…”

“I’m not doing it on purpose!”

“I can’t turn it off again. I can’t control it and I’m scared shitless!”

“You never swear.”

“I never kiss boys either. You’re a corruptible force Archie Tanner.”

“Stop making this difficult!”

“Oh yes, because this is obviously easy for me, which is why we’re fighting now isn’t it?” Archie laughed, incredulous. It drove Derek mad. “There you go being loud, sexy and all sorts of irritating again. No wonder I can’t keep away from you.”

“You better come in then, before I jump you in public. You’re even sexier when you’re bothered.”

“You’re positively infuriating.”

“It’s all part of the charm.”

It was—which was why Derek continued arguing, followed him into the house, and offered no resistance when Archie immediately started kissing him, pressing against him and placing Derek’s hand on his bum. They only broke lip contact to bicker in single words: torment; cock-tease; wanton; prude; harlot…

“I like that one Derek—harlot.” Archie seductively stretched each syllable. “It describes how you make the blood sound in my ears, hypnotizing me so all I think of is you.”

Derek retaliated with the way Archie’s laugh drove him to distraction. Bickering about ways each haunted the other slowly evolved into panted declarations of what they hoped to do together. Derek had no recollection of how or when they moved from the doorway through to Archie’s room. Yet there they lay on his mattress with shirts and zippers open, Archie’s right hand in Derek’s hair as Derek licked at the pierced nipple he met for the first time yesterday. Archie’s left hand cupped Derek’s erection, still encased in sensible, honour-roll appropriate underwear. Derek’s right arm and left leg prevented him from lying directly on top of Archie while his left hand…

One side of Derek’s conscience shrieked. Archie wasn’t wearing underwear!

The other, ravenously horny side cheered hooray!

The boring puritan side carried on hysterically before being gagged, bound and locked in a lead-lined trunk as Derek and Archie unleashed the hounds. Derek couldn’t concentrate on how ludicrously arousing Archie’s nipple and metal stud felt against his tongue. He stopped licking to gasp as they began stroking each other’s… _‘cocks’, say it. It’s like learning to read: ‘Your hand is tugging on his cock. His hand is tugging on your cock. You are enjoying the feel of his cock in your hand. It is hard, hot, smooth and the more you touch him the more you want to_ fuck _him_ because you are GAY. _End of story.’_

They didn’t talk, moan or do anything other than breathe heavily, rapidly, desperately as they played. The sensations differed enough from masturbating to make Derek forget about containing his mess and he released with a short, startled ‘o’, followed by a languorous ‘ooh’.

Archie ended with ‘yhuh-uhh’ then reverently finger-painted on their sticky torsos while kissing Derek with possessive vigour. “I hope this means we’re still together.”

Derek reassuringly kissed Archie’s purple painted eyebrow and called him sweetheart. “You look and act bitter,” Derek explained, “but your heart and soul are sweeter than your kissable lips, irresistible.”

“I think I love you.”

Derek thought the same thing but didn’t say it, simply kissed his temptation again. He had to obliterate any physical evidence of this intimate experience and compose a convincing lie for why he’ll be late home on the last night before his family embarked on separate vacations.

“May I call on you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Why certainly Mr Darcy, my chaperone and I shall be seated in the parlour with tea and scones in anticipation of your arrival.”

Derek laughed then delivered a polite bow and a “Miss Elizabeth” which earned him a pseudo beating with the rubber-footed end of a wooden crutch. He left, pondering how miserable he’d be if they’d succeeded in breaking up.

λ

 “Where have you been? Don’t start with that twaddle about the charity case from school. We telephoned your friends.” Mother rose from the table to remove Derek’s dinner from the oven where it had been keeping warm. Derek followed her so he could avoid Father’s stern gaze and his younger sister’s glee. Derek never got into trouble at home.

“He’s not a charity case, he’s a friend.” _We’re in love. Being with him is like riding a rollercoaster, without the screaming girls and vomiting._

“You already have friends Derek, decent friends. We know you mean well but this character will lead you astray. He’s beyond redemption.”

“No person is beyond redemption. Do you listen when you drag us to Mass? Or is it all to impress your friend, rival, nemesis, or whatever Mrs Bindle is?”

“See? You were never disrespectful before. Thank goodness you’re getting away from that hooligan for the summer.”

“That hooligan’s name is Archie. You don’t know him. You can’t judge.”

“Is this girl one of his followers? Is this change in your behaviour her influence?”

“There is nogirl!”

“Don’t raise your voice to your mother!” Father called from the next room.

Mother suddenly placed an affectionate, gentle palm to Derek’s cheek. “First love is often the most blinding, Derek. It prevents us making appropriate choices because we can’t see properly. You think you’re in love…”

“We _are_ in love.”

Mother’s smug smile radiated victory at exposing a supposed contradiction. Derek imagined her thinking ‘a mother knows’ and thought she wouldn’t be so smug if she knew both statements were true.

“Break up with this girl before she further compromises your morals. You’ve already begun lying and giving cheek, what next, hmm?”

_Well, before we manually brought each other to orgasm my_ boyfriend _and I discussed pornography and indiscriminate sex, not in particular detail mind you, more put the idea out there for later consideration—not the response you were looking for? Then let us assume you asked a rhetorical question, Mother dear, and leave it unanswered. I’m so glad we didn’t have this discussion._

He wished his sweetheart was here to hear the thoughts cavorting through his head so they could laugh about them together. Derek knew the lying and talking back had only begun. He wouldn’t give Archie up. To ensure no-one tried to force him into doing just that Derek would keep his beloved’s identity secret until he finished school and left for university. Then he could bring Archie to stay in his room on campus when their breaks overlapped. That’s how much he loved him.

Derek lied to his mother with a brusque nod of his head, joined his family at the table with apparent humility, and participated in polite conversation. They played a boisterous board game where he successfully exposed his sister’s chicanery. Sue accused him in turn but he was too clever to leave evidence of cheating. He assisted his family with preparations for their voyage, locating his sister’s beach towel and his father’s favourite socks, then pretended to finalise packing for the boys’ own adventure. All the while he thought of mischievous hazel eyes, ridiculously coloured hair, laughter to stop his heart, and a lightly freckled half-peach that he intended to get his hands and maybe even his mouth on tomorrow.

The Landons retired early since his family needed to be out of the house by three a.m. at the latest. Derek couldn’t close his eyes without remembering how it felt holding his boyfriend’s hard cock, having his held, pumping each other in time. Muffling his face between pillow and bended arm, he re-enacted the afternoon as best he could, ejaculating into a sock, then murmuring “Goodnight Sweetheart” into his pillow before going to sleep.

26 July 1975

_How long after waking up should I wait before calling Archie?_

After breakfast, or before? Immediately so he knew Derek most certainly considered them together? Before the heat took hold of the day or once the cooler evening allowed them to kiss and cuddle without getting too sweaty, providing Archie invited him over. Now?

_Now._

The handset slipped from Archie’s fingers as soon as he answered the telephone. Derek heard “Bugger” CLUNK “shit!” followed by a holler of “just a sec, dropped it ‘n’ have to get down to pick it up!”

“Why don’t you…” Derek began hollering back only to be interrupted.

“Shut up and wait!” Shuffle, scuff, profanity, thud, ow, profanity. “Got it, hello?”

“Why didn’t you just pull it up by the chord?”

Pause. “Didn’t think of that,” his favourite hooligan humbly admitted and Derek laughed. “Shut up.”

“Want me to come around and help you off the floor?”

“One problem with that plan, potential hero, how can I let you in to help me off the floor?”

“How quickly you forget, I am an undercover ninja assassin. I shall implement my training to kick the door in. Or ask Cheng to break in and open it for me.”

Archie laughed. Derek pictured him. He’d been able to identify that laugh without seeing the source for four hundred and eighty-nine days, approximately. It’s what lured Derek out from under his blanket in the corner cupboard of denial in the first place.

“I love your laugh.” Derek said it with a smile and without thinking. Archie said nothing in return. “Sorry…”

“No, don’t be. Just, surprised me, that’s all. What’d you call for?”

“I wanted to talk to you. And listen to you laugh,” Derek added hastily. His voice shook nervously through the first part and he didn’t want Archie thinking he’d called reluctantly.

“Are you bothered by what happened yesterday?”

_Only if you mean hot and bothered,_ thought Derek but he replied “No.”

“You left pretty quick…”

Derek heard that contradictory blend of offense and defence in a single phrase. This could easily lead into another fight between them. “I was late home, awfully late. My family left on their holiday early this morning and we were supposed to have dinner together. My mother had a go at me, and at you.”

“She knows you were with me?”

Derek heard a hefty hint of hopeful surprise. “Not the whole time. My friends told her I have a girlfriend and…”

“Mummy thought you were with her. Did you tell her we’re together and set her straight?”

“No.”

“So, what do you want?” That sharp edge was back. Even before Archie’s laugh caught his attention Derek knew it didn’t take much to set Tanner off on a temper tangent. The entire school knew.

“I wanted to see you.”

“Wanted _,_ as in did want but don’t now?”

“Stop being paranoid, I am **calling** because I **want** to see you. Is that pedantic enough to quash your insecurities?”

“Considering you were going to give me the shove yesterday until we tugged each other off and then you did a bolt directly after, no it isn’t. You’ll have to come over and make it up to me in person.”

“Would arriving on your doorstep twenty minutes from now make me appear too desperate?”

“Desperate enough but only just. I’m timing you.”

λ

The summer was hot with a promise of broiling, a promise likely to be fulfilled if the effect of Archie answering the door wearing nothing but briefs, his plaster cast and an open short-sleeve shirt was any indicator.

“Underwear,” Derek observed stupidly.

“Too hot for jeans, too uncomfortable for bare-arse naked, you like?”

_What a stupid,_ stupid _question that is._ “I see some other brave and noble hero scraped you off the floor and returned you to a vertical position.” _I’m more than willing to get you horizontal again, should you agree._

“Yeah, I’m too pathetic to do that myself.”

“You’re particularly antsy today.”

“I’ve had this fucking thing on my leg for weeks. It’s sweaty, itchy, heavy, constantly chaffing, and it stinks. Having a bath is uncomfortably ludicrous, using the loo requires a balancing act and every muscle from big toe to arse cheek takes a turn at cramping up. But how dare I forget my bloody manners.”

Derek found him even more gorgeous due to this indignant rant. Derek smiled in arousal and amusement as he touched Archie’s face, leaned in and kissed him. “Hello,” Derek said with a smile and kissed him again, this time placing both hands on Archie’s sweaty, freckled face.

“Hello.” Archie kissed him back. They spent seven minutes pressed close together with their mouths in continual, non-verbal action, despite the heat and Archie’s discomfort.

“Why don’t you put the electric fan on?” Derek asked. They were perspiring plentifully considering they hadn’t moved a limb since they started smooching, which they continued to do between speaking.

“Don’t have one.”

“I do,” smooch, “in my empty brick house,” kiss, “with no family to disturb us.”

“Are you trying to seduce me?”

“I most certainly am.”

“I’d have to put on pants.”

“Not for long.”

“You, sir, are not as innocent as you led me to believe.”

“I told you, you’ve corrupted me. I’m already addicted to listening to you, looking at you, dreaming about you. I’m rapidly developing addictions to kissing and touching you. Can you extrapolate and complete this equation?”

“I’m shite at math,” Archie admitted and Derek chuckled with him, enjoying the feel of their bodies shaking together.

“Regardless of what you see of me in public sweetheart, be assured that my private thoughts are continually focussed on you, on the potential of ‘us’.”

Archie responded with an assertively hungry kiss. “Doesn’t change the fact that I suck at math,” he murmured afterward, a teasing distance from Derek’s lips.

“Truly?”

“Remedial. Anything beyond long division is shit-arsed nonsense.”

Derek let his hands glide over Archie’s neck, shoulders, back before coming to rest on his waist. He made a thoughtful _mmm_ sound as his nervous system reminded him why touching the foul-mouthed punk was so addictive. Archie’s hands took a scenic route to Derek’s bum.

“I could tutor you,” Derek suggested, “providing a legitimate reason for us to be in each other’s rooms after school and on weekends.”

“Cunning plan Mr Landon but how will you explain my continually poor test results after such an intense study regime?”

“Congenital numeric deficiency.”

Archie laughed that alluring laugh again. Derek loved the fact he didn’t have to explain. His friends thought his secret love was a barbaric buffoon, closing their eyes and blocking their ears after the first impression, missing out on the layers Derek loved losing himself in. If only they could see, then Derek would be so much closer to being Archie’s boyfriend at school as well as out of it. They could go on a proper date, maybe. They could go to the cinema as friends and hold hands in the dark without anyone knowing then come back to Derek’s so they could cuddle and kiss, perhaps even fondle and come again.

Derek’s breath shortened and the previous train of thought derailed because his brain was no longer doing the thinking.

“Can we go to your room?” he asked Archie with a licking kiss. The organ that was doing the thinking nudged against Archie’s as if to tell it ‘hint, hint’. The hint was taken and they fell asleep in a hot, sweaty huddle after bringing each other to climax.

λ

Derek woke in an uncomfortable sweat. Archie continued dozing. Derek took the opportunity to look him over. Even at home Archie smothered his copper hair with unnatural hues. Today it was blue. His unbuttoned shirt was tangled, underwear maintained an illusion of modesty, the plastered leg stuck out stiffly to one side, and his hair had lost its rigid spikes as perspiration drenched his scalp, but his navel held Derek’s attention the longest. He promised himself that next time he’d place his mouth over that dip, next time they’d take their time, next time he’d see Archie completely, properly naked. Next time he’d watch Archie’s cock move through his fingers, watch the cum he summoned forth, maybe even taste it by licking some off his finger and then compare the flavour to the inside of Archie’s mouth.

Next time? This time!

He opened Archie’s shirt wider and applied a soft, open mouthed kiss to the left of Archie’s navel. His sweetheart stirred…

λ

They were awake, presentable and sitting at the table drinking tap water from plastic glasses when Deborah came home, said a quick hello to them on her way to the bathroom, bathed, changed her clothes, and gave some money to her son with an affectionate kiss goodbye before she went out the door again.

“Second shift,” Archie explained as Derek opened his mouth to question.

Neither of Deborah’s ensembles suggested ‘shift worker’ to Derek.

“Second job then, who the fuck cares?” Archie amended and swiftly diverted the conversation. “Describe this grand holiday you forwent in order to repeatedly molest me in my own home.”

“That’s unfair. I presented an opportunity for mutual molestation at my house but you made some sort of moral objection to wearing pants.”

“How is that unfair? Due to your objections I ended up wearing nothing but plaster!” Archie didn’t sound as though he minded that much.

“You’re captivating naked. I plan to get you that way again tomorrow, at my house. What time shall I bring the carriage around?”

“I’ll be at Cheng’s.”

“All day?”

“Allow me to check my appointment book.” Archie looked down at his broken limb. “Apparently so.”

“When can I see you next?”

“What for?”

“Don’t be an arse. I stayed back from a highly anticipated holiday to…”

“You’re not fucking me. When I said ‘take my virginity’ that day in your car I was joking. Not entirely joking, but I didn’t mean any time soon.”

Derek enjoyed the way Archie’s tone varied from sentence to sentence, starting with an accusation to end with the possibility of a future invitation. He admired Archie for knowing what he did and did not want to do, and for making no apologies for his stance.

“I stayed back because I didn’t want weeks to go by without talking to you. What’s been happening…Look, I won’t insult you by pretending I never thought of doing more than kiss and talk but we’re progressing faster than I expected. I won’t say I want to stop or slow down because it isn’t true. For eight more days I can indulge myself, gorge myself on being around you without needing to make excuses to anyone for wanting to be near you. After that, I may not have an opportunity before school begins again. Do you know how long it took to admit to myself precisely how I feel about you, let alone meet you? You’re my first love Archie Tanner, not just first kiss, first touch up or whatever else might occur between us...”

“Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up. Shut up!”

“What’s your problem now?” _apart from your broken leg, abusive father, dreadful taste, innumeracy, delinquent friends and obsessively horny boyfriend?_

“You say things like that and they feel genuine but—you and your friends, this holiday challenge. If this is all twisted and you’re using me for that, I will break your face into a thousand pieces and feed them to you through your pee-hole.”

Derek experienced a jumble of positive and negative responses. Archie wanted this to be real but didn’t trust him. Derek understood. Several times since puberty dawned he heard his father say to his mother: “only adolescent boys truly understand why adolescent boys cannot be trusted.” ‘Walking Penis Syndrome’ was how the girls in the Wild Wood described their male friends’ affliction and Derek had begun exhibiting a few symptoms recently. “What will it take for you to trust me, to believe I mean everything I say?”

Archie shrugged without looking at him, somehow aggressive and vulnerable all at once. There had to be something Derek could do to convince his sweetheart he’s sincere.

“This challenge you mentioned, it isn’t meant to be serious, especially not for me. Nine days with three other guys, travelling in one car, sharing the same small shack by a beach—do you really see a chance of anybody getting laid within that scenario? I can’t tell them I’m…” He still found it difficult to verbalise, even to Archie which made no sense to either of them, but that’s the way it was.

“Gay.” Archie said it for him in a non-confrontational manner.

“Gay,” Derek admitted and was amazed at how easy it was to acknowledge at that moment.

Archie smiled with mild amusement and—Derek may have imagined this—pride.

“I’m not keeping score Archie. I won the moment Cheng told me to keep my distance unless I was interested. I’ll keep my lips, hands and naughty thoughts involving mutual gratification to myself until you understand that I...” He nearly said he loved him but men wouldn’t say that to each other, so he didn’t. _Men don’t wrap their hand around another male and tell him to_ ‘fuck my hand, ooh yeah fuck it, I want to feel your spunk on me,’ _while they watch, but you had no trouble doing that earlier today, did you?_ “I genuinely like you.” _You really are a worm Derek Edward Landon, a spineless invertebrate._

“Come with me to Cheng’s tomorrow? You might have to put up with Wren, but at least if they start snogging you can get me out of there. A day with my friends without being able to hide behind yours should be enough to test your fidelity.” Archie stretched, complained of a cramp and came close to whinging that he needed a cool bath. That last did nothing to help Derek keep his hands and mouth off him. Archie’s parting comment trebled the number and intensity of naughty thoughts cavorting through Derek’s mind. “If you manage to behave appropriately tomorrow I might let you touch me up again the day after that.”

Derek masturbated in the shower and again in bed when he woke up hard during the night. He switched on the light and watched his hands at work on heavy balls and tall, swollen cock. Derek preferred the look and feel of Archie in his hands. The thought of Archie seeing him now and joining him on the bed, or maybe putting his smutty mouth where Derek’s hands were…

“Oh Grrrornn!” Derek made no effort to suppress the animalistic groaning grunt inspired by his climax. “God, yes,” he told the images in his head as his eyes beheld the creamy white extent of Archie’s hold over him. “Yes Sweetheart, touch it, see how badly I ache for you, suck it better bad boy.” Derek licked his lips while massaging his drained and exhausted dick. He wondered if this level of arousal was normal as he stripped his sheets and showered again.

27 July 1975

Derek felt disproportionately nervous as he followed Cheng’s driveway, despite his sweetheart’s assurance that ‘just rocking up’ unannounced posed no problem. He opened one side of the double gate and saw that the garage tilt-door was open. Cheng sat by the outside tap filling a small bucket. Archie—green and blue hair today—sat facing a small Asian girl. Each played a guitar. Archie shifted his plastered leg, accidentally squashing a petite, female foot.

“ _Awh_ - _ow_ Weazl! Clumsy oaf!” Her voice was more mature than Derek expected. She must be their age although her size tricked him into thinking she was younger than Sue.

“Sorry Wren. You right to start back from the riff?”

“Let my foot recover first, heartless troglodyte.”

“Piss-weak pacifist,” Archie countered. Then he saw Derek and smiled. “Hello you. Wasn’t sure you’d brave this neck of the woods unescorted.”

“I remain a tad unsure myself,” Derek confessed.

“Posh!” Wren quipped brightly and Archie’s smile broadened. “Please tell me you’re a drummer and Weazl’s finally telling Donk to shove off.”

“Are you a drummer?” Archie asked Derek archly and Cheng laughed.

“No.”

“Then what’re you?” Wren glanced between Derek and Archie. “You’re Weazl’s Sorry-Can’t-Practice-Today-Because-I’m-Busy-Sprogging-My-Pants.”

Archie kicked her with the plastered leg and they both paid the penalty, complaining with various levels of profanity while Cheng laughed at them. Derek regretted coming and began taking a slow step back until Cheng spotted his flight attempt and made introductions.

“This is my girlfriend, Wren, and this is Weazl’s boyfriend, Derek.”

Archie gave Derek a look that combined ‘sorry you’ve been outed so casually in front of a complete stranger’ with ‘deny we’re together and you can fuck off home again’. _How does he_ do _that?_ If they fought then Derek would want to make up and the way they made up should not be seen by third parties. Derek flipped his fingers in a reluctant ‘hi’ gesture and forced a small, tight-lipped smile.

“How did an arse like Weazl attract a Prince Charming like you and where can I get one?” Wren asked with a welcoming smile.

“Oi,” Cheng protested, “stop flirting with Weazl’s bloke in front of us!”

“I’m not flirting!”

Archie mouthed ‘sorry’ and gestured for Derek to sit down. Cheng and Wren bickered without it escalating into an argument or descending to the sort of activity Derek and Archie indulged in whenever they carried on like this.

“Bored now,” Archie declared and the heterosexual couple rounded up with flirtatious grins.

Cheng tossed a pile of clean handkerchiefs into the water filled bucket and swirled them around while Wren and Archie returned to their guitar lesson. Wren fretted with her left hand, Archie with his right, and they sat directly opposite each other so she could mirror his finger positions. Derek was content to observe in silence, intrigued by Archie’s patience with Wren’s stumbling chord changes and not at all surprised by his determination. One afternoon Derek had been in the classroom adjacent to the music room when the lesson had been interrupted by Mr Cooper hollering:

“Tanner! Get to where you should be, your class finished several minutes ago!”

“So the fuck what? I haven’t got this bit right yet!”

“Receive two demerits for language Mr Tanner. What subject do you have now?”

“Boxing.”

“Show me your schedule…Yes, well, I think you’re better off here until next sports rotation.”

The majority of Derek’s class stifled chuckles and many continued to grin after their teacher’s stern gaze. They heard Tanner repeat the same melody for three quarters of the lesson until he was satisfied. Then he began another one. Derek and Jonathon had both songs embedded in their brains for weeks. That incident inspired the continental drift.

Derek smiled at the memory and at the way Archie complimented his student’s successes. Cheng beamed proudly at Wren. Derek suspected he beamed at his sweetheart the same way since Archie smiled with unexpected shyness and ducked his head from the scrutiny each time he caught Derek looking. Derek wondered how to avoid wanting to kiss him when he’s so wonderful.

The heat asserted its influence and Cheng tied one of the saturated handkerchiefs around his head before draping one loosely around the back of Wren’s neck with a kiss. He passed one to Archie without it dripping on the cursed plaster and then offered one to Derek. The immediate cooling effect was certainly worth looking like a pillock.

The hypnotic call of an ice-cream van rose and fell as it meandered along nearby streets.

“Want anything Sweetheart?” Derek got to his feet then realised what he said. Heat and the calm friendliness of the day had eroded his guard. Cheng wore a mirthful smirk and Wren had that same dreamy expression Derek’s sister developed while reading teen romance novels. Archie appeared stunned. Derek couldn’t tell if Archie felt complimented or annoyed.

Wren slapped Archie’s bare knee and gestured with her head. “Go on,” she said through a tight mouth.

“Plain cone please, uh, dear.”

Wren laughed with an avian chirp.

“I dunno, what’m I s’posed to call him?” Archie muttered uncomfortably and Wren tittered loudly.

“What do you want Sugar-lips?” Cheng asked Wren with a grin.

“As long as it’s cold and smothered in chocolate I don’t care, Honey-pie.”

“Fuck off,” growled Archie.

“Get over yourself lucky duck, we’re just jealous. It took us ages to get where you two are,” Wren said and without prompting began playing the tune he’d just taught her.

Cheng walked with Derek to wait for the ice-cream van to reach his street, jingling coins in his pocket while he talked. “We’re giving Weazl shit, not you Charming. Okay, that was giving you shit, but only that time.”

The tinkle of bells to the tune of _Greensleeves_ alternated between growing louder and quieter, making it impossible to accurately guess where the vending vehicle might be.

“How is it that all ice-cream vans defy the Doppler Effect?” Derek asked.

“Eh?”

“Never mind.”

“Is that kind of boffin stuff you and Weazl talk about when you aren’t sucking face or getting each other off?”

Derek whispered a mild curse.

“Eh?”

“He continually accuses me, but brags to you? He’s such an arse!” Derek almost spit in angry disbelief.

“That’s how the band got her name.” Cheng’s grin was huge in his small face. He thought for a moment with his face screwed up, dark eyes almost disappearing. “He’ll skin me and turn my hide into a guitar case if he hears about this but I’ll tell you anyway. Weazl doesn’t brag about being with you. He asked me if being this horny is normal or if he’s easy, that’s all. I reckon he’s lucky to find someone even hornier to pair up with. Wren’s a bloody tease. Fuck Weazl over though and you’ll have to sew your nuts back on—if you can find them—because every single one of us will tear you apart. That’s a friendly warning Landon, because I like you.”

Cheng’s brow barely reached Derek’s shoulders yet he threatened him with extreme violence. Derek would laugh if he wasn’t so busy envying Archie and Cheng’s friendship. So far Archie was the only person Derek could talk to about the gay factor.

“Did it bother you when you found out about Archie, um, Weazl?” Derek asked and was startled by Cheng’s low whistle of amazement.

“He lets you call him Archie? Holy shit! Only four people I know are allowed to do that and only Deb gets away with it in public. If you mess up you are a dead man, woo-hooh deader than dead.” Cheng shook his head in surprised admiration before answering Derek’s question. “Too right it bothered me. I got to thinking all sorts of fucked up shit: does he try to look at my knob when we get changed for swimming? Will I be a poofter too because of a hundred stupid things? Is he checking our friends out? Is he like that pervert in the overcoat offering kids lollies and when they reach into his pocket he’s got his dick poking through so they pull on it. Really thick-headed crazy shit like that. More than half our friends had a go at him after that Benny at the school dance episode. Apart from Donk they don’t sit with us anymore. No great loss. Good on him I reckon.”

“Why didn’t you have a go at him?”

Cheng shrugged as though he’d never thought of that. “He’s still Archie. That shit swam through my head and sometimes it spewed out my mouth but he acted like he always did. I’d ask stupid questions, he’d call me a dipshit, nothing unusual.” Cheng laughed. Derek remained surprised by how much their social collective laughed when they appeared bitter and cold from the outside. Cheng’s humour faded slightly as he continued. “It took longer to get used to than he reckons. We both kind of thought it’d be ‘yep, he likes boys and not girls, the end’ not the beginning, but seeing him lock lips with another bloke still messes with my head. Plus there’s a whole culture. I get that, my father’s Korean and my mother’s Anglo but I never thought of Gay and Lesbian as ethnic groups before, trippy. You’ve got a long and sometimes lonely road ahead of you mate.”

“It’s not looking quite as lonely as it did a few days ago.”

Cheng accepted the compliment with a wink and the long anticipated ice cream van turned into his street. “About fucking time, I don’t fancy one of Archie’s crutches in my ear because it took so long. What did Wren want again?”

Derek couldn’t remember either. They bought whatever they could afford and hoped their loved ones approved.

λ

The afternoon passed by with lazy generic conversation. Handkerchiefs were rotated between heads and bucket so there were always some already wet to replace those that dried out.

“I like your friends,” Derek confessed quietly to his sweetheart. He didn’t admit that he liked Cheng and Wren more than some of his own social group. “These ones anyway, not so much Kennelly.”

“Donk seems to have been evolving into an arsehole since puberty began. He should return to normal once the hormonal madness ends. Wren can’t see why Cheng and I keep him around because she didn’t know him before.”

That probably meant ‘badmouth my friends and we’re done’ so Derek talked about something else until they had to leave so Cheng could cover Archie’s job at the _So-So_ club until the cast was removed. Derek offered everyone a lift, earning unanimous approval.

“What do you do?” Derek asked Archie as they all traipsed along the driveway.

“Dishwashing mostly, toilet scrubbing if I want extra cash,” Archie replied without shame.

“Hate that part, nasty!” Cheng declared.

“Puts food on the table, not that anyone can be hungry after mopping vomit and scraping shit off walls,” Archie said with a laugh. Wren pulled a face. Cheng chuckled and kissed her cheek.

Something deep inside Derek hurt. These people could become his friends. They wouldn’t pressure him to continue being best and first like his parents, or make him choose between them and Archie like he’s convinced the Benchers will. His friends would never accept anyone like Archie into their circle, not only because he’s gay. They found everything about him noxious. He was ‘different’ and different meant wrong in high school vernacular. Not to Archie’s friends. They wouldn’t be his friends otherwise.

He realised Archie made no reference to ‘poofters’ or anything related during the day. There was no need to advertise or confront in this environment. Epiphany: Archie liked the punk look and what it stood for, but the noise and attention grabbing were separate. _My boyfriend’s a billboard encouraging guys like me to admit to ourselves that we’re gay, a decoy to divert attention from those accused of being gay who are unable to confidently say “yes I am” or “go away bigot"_. Derek understood Cheng’s point about ethnicity and wondered whether he should use a capital ‘G’. He had quite a distance left to travel along his particular road. Archie zoomed along the highway while Derek had barely opened his front gate and stepped onto the path. Worse yet, in a few days this summer fantasy would be over and Derek would most likely run back inside to hide under the bed with a pillow over his head, despite Archie’s affectionate praise and encouragement upon getting out of the car.

“Thanks for today Derek. I’m proud to be your sweetheart,” was followed by a soft parting kiss that only increased Derek’s turmoil. He hadn’t much time before he must choose which option would be more painful, being with Archie or being without.

28-30 July 1975

Derek sat at home alone after spending almost twelve hours with the one he loved and desired. The memory of the day both sustained and tormented him. Derek wanted Archie with a heat that was blinding. He knew he had a limited time before he had to pretend again because he fully intended to pretend again. Derek told Cheng to keep his relationship with Archie secret because he wanted to be the one to let people know but that wasn’t entirely true. He didn’t want people to know at all. One year of school remained before he’d be leaving for university. Then he could invite Archie to stay with him. Derek planned to suggest living together off campus if his sweetheart was willing to drop out of school, which apart from English, Music and lunch breaks he seemed to detest. Not a soul there would know Derek as he was before he acknowledged his sexuality, before Archie, instead they’d be known as a couple from the start. The idea thrilled him from head to toe and terrified him from the inside out so he tried not to taint these blissful few days. For three days Derek avoided instigating the silly arguments he and Archie habitually got into, or retaliating when his wretched punk started one. Their make out sessions became less intense as a result and Derek wasn’t sure whether fighting was a positive or negative aspect of their relationship. He couldn’t risk the possibility that one inane argument might lead to a serious one and that instead of making up with increasingly orchestrated orgasms he’d be told to fuck off on a permanent basis.

31 July 1975

Derek finally encouraged Archie out of his usual hidey holes and over to the Landon house where Derek put on a Frank Sinatra record. Archie obnoxiously declared “What’s this shit?!”

And the fight began.

They argued long and loudly over something so utterly ridiculous, so pointless, so irrelevant to anything that Derek began to believe they shouldn’t be together in the first place. If two people couldn’t agree on the vocal talents of Frank Sinatra then what _could_ they agree on?

“You’re not even listening to it are you?” Derek cried in irate frustration. The argument had zigzagged around in circles, up, down, over, under and sideways for…Derek had no idea how long they’d been going on, but it felt like decades. “How can you expect me to respect your opinion if you can’t be bothered knowing why you’re ranting on at me?”

“I don’t have to listen to it more than once to know I don’t like it! Have you even been listening to me? I’m not giving a compositional analysis you fuckwit.”

“What did you call me?”

“Did you hear the bloody rest of it or were you too busy compiling your next la-di-fucking-da …?”

“Stop swearing at me! No wonder my friends think you’re gutter scrapings. Do you hear yourself?”

“I did not fucking well swear at you!”

“You did it again!”

“No I didn’t!”

“You stubborn, deliberately ignorant shit! Great, now you’ve got me doing it.” Derek turned away from him.

“You say ‘fuck’ a lot, don’t you Derek? _Fuck my fingers sweetheart_.” Archie’s initial comment was quiet, his mimicry accurate and his eyes triumphantly cruel as Derek turned around.

_You bastard!_ “That’s in context. You lot use it as punctuation.”

“I thought my name was Little Fuckwit until just before I started school.”

Derek laughed. Archie glowered.

“I wasn’t joking. The cock-cheese never called me anything else. Apart from Faggot, but that only started when I was nine and I didn’t know what it meant until I was twelve. None of that alters the fact that I reckon your big band mate Sinatra sucks pigeon farts through a straw.”

Derek stepped forward, grabbed Archie by the face and kissed him. “You’re incredible.” He kissed him again then grabbed his bum with both hands as their tongues touched. He didn’t bother taking him upstairs to his room, only to the couch. They kissed and touched, touched and moaned, moaned and came. Derek wondered if all their fights would end like this. He hoped so. The preceding rollercoaster ride was worth it.

1 August 1975

Derek dreamed of hazel eyes.

Angry, shy, narrowed, laughing, wide open, offended, half closed, intense, sleeping…

He woke and his grey eyes were disappointed by the absence of those hazel eyes sleeping beside him. He placed a sad hand on the pillow where he hoped his sweetheart would be and dreamed of a morning when he’d wake up to find him there.

2 August 1975

_His face is perfect when he’s ready to come._

Lips parted gently, mouth open enough to let sounds of pleasure escape, not enough to let Derek’s tongue slip inside.

Eyes closed almost completely, leaving only a thin line of white visible between bright copper lashes.

Skin flushed, hue varying with the pace they set.

Derek’s cum decorated Archie’s freckled skin perfectly.

“We’re perfect together,” Derek whispered, taking his eyes off the organic paint on Archie’s torso in order to watch post-orgasmic hazel eyes open and look into his. He kissed his love.

4 August 1975

Two days left before Derek’s friends would return to regale him with tales of mischief they would never attempt close to home and only one day until his parents returned.

Derek wanted Archie to sleep over before that happened. He took a break from mowing the Tanner lawn to suggest it.

“No.” Archie shook his head sternly. His eyes lingered on Derek’s bare, sweat-glazed chest but he remained adamant.

“Why not?”

“You’ll try to fuck me.”

Derek wanted to deny that accusation but he probably would. He didn’t intend going that far for quite a while yet, but having Archie that close and for that long might tip the balance. There was something he’d like to try though. “Sounds like,” Derek confessed.

“Sounds like what?” Archie asked, perplexed.

“Figure it out.” Derek restarted the mower and watched Archie’s facial muscles move as he worked his way through the riddle. The hazel eyes that haunted him night and day eventually widened, narrowed with a frown, and then widened again. Archie noticed Derek watching him and made a lewd gesture with his thumb and mouth that Derek had seen boys make to girls in the corridors at school, except Archie’s head tilted at an enquiring angle rather than a suggestive one. Derek lifted his eyebrows and nodded slightly. Archie’s face suddenly contorted in silent pain and Derek knew his right leg had tried to jiggle as it did autonomously when he became excitedly nervous or gave an issue serious thought. In this case Derek hoped it was both.

Archie’s left foot tapped instead, hands pressed palms together between his knees, head bowed. Derek suspected this was the closest his atheist boyfriend had ever been to prayer.

_Say yes, please, say yes._

Derek began decapitating the last row of grass and Archie looked up. His hands stayed pressed tightly between his knees as he gave a quick double nod. Derek smiled gently in response, remaining outwardly calm while his hormones prepared to party like the world was ending.

λ

They conversed easily through the afternoon until his rough nut’s grumbling guts declared meal time and then they fought over Derek’s culinary ineptitude. Even once Archie took over the stove they kept arguing. The simple ‘nosh’, as Archie insisted on calling his creation from meagre offerings Derek bothered buying during his independence, was surprisingly delicious. Deborah started teaching Archie to prepare simple meals at the age of four and he could cook independently from the age of nine. Archie proudly admitted this skill had ‘saved his arse’ numerous times over the years. Comfortable peace lingered while they ate then disappeared in a fight over the washing up.

“You’re a pig Landon. Have you even turned that kitchen tap on since Mummy left? I’m not cleaning up after you.” Then he carried on about Derek’s pathetic efforts, tossing one utensil back into the sink four times because he refused to dry it in that grotty state until Derek threatened him with it. Archie threatened more effectively and Derek washed it again. It still wasn’t good enough for Mr-Sheen-on-acid, who threw the tea towel onto the bench and stomp-hobbled off to watch telly, insisting Derek’s academic prowess rendered him useless in the real world. “Great, you’ve got me quoting the cock-cheese—only with bigger words!”

Derek continued cleaning the cutlery to his own apparently sub-standard quantifications. He silently broiled over every argument they’d ever had, without being able to release the overwhelming tension in a pleasurable manner.

“Got anything to read?” Archie asked to break the sudden awkward silence caused by Derek joining him in the Landon family’s main room. The novelty of television must have worn off. The Tanners didn’t have one and Kennelly’s household only turned theirs on for certain programs. His sweetheart favoured Bandstand and anything featuring David Attenborough, or that Bellamy chap who made Archie laugh every time he foraged in the dirt or opened his mouth. Everything else was a waste of the technology in Archie’s opinion.

Derek didn’t bother sitting down as he impolitely suggested a bus schedule in response to the question of reading material. He’d grown tired of arguing without getting off at the end.

“You want me to leave?”

_Not so arrogant now, are you shithead?_ Derek thought smugly and considered lying to see how far they’d go to stay together this time. Then he realised what a detestable thought that was. Mother was right. Derek had changed through this association and not for the better. “Maybe you should go home,” he said reluctantly.

“I don’t get you Landon.”

“The way you keep going off at me I doubt that you particularly like me, either.” _Why on earth am I admitting that?_

“Well I do, a lot. A lot more than like, have done for ages, I wouldn’t be here otherwise. You don’t feel the same so…”

“I do feel the same,” Derek confessed to stop Archie getting up. “You wouldn’t be here otherwise. How do you always twist things so I’m the one apologising?”

“I do no such thing. You’re always at fault and being a good little Christian boy you accept all responsibility. Then, being a horny young man, touch me up as absolution or penitence. Certainly lightens both our loads, whatever you want to call it.”

“Stay with me, sleep with me—I meant next to me, not, not…”

“Why?”

“Why or why not?”

“Yes.”

“Because whenever I wake up and you aren’t here it hurts. But I’m not ready to, you know, yet. We’re not, neither of us, we haven’t been together long enough.” Derek made no effort to stop Archie getting up this time and was surprised when Archie limped over and kissed him lightly on the cheek before holding his hand.

“You’re right Derek, we’re perfect together.”

λ

Derek led his boyfriend upstairs to his room but not for their usual reconciliatory fondle. Instead they lay beside each other on Derek’s bigger, higher but nothing extraordinary bed and talked while reading. Or is it read while talking? They seemed to do the same amount of both.

“Finally someone in my peer group who _reads_ National Geographic and doesn’t just look at the bare-breasted native women from around the world.”

“I can’t believe your olds were throwing these out! Mum would kill for them. She used to have a bloke-friend who sold these when I was eight. He took Mum with him to help sell them too instead of, never mind, but he died just after I turned nine. Then cock-cheese found us and dragged us back. He was teaching us to read properly and everything, old what’s-his-name. Mum still can’t, not as well as I can. Coming up to eight years on and Mum still misses him, cries because she reckons I deserve a bloke like that for a Dad. I reckon he deserved her. Wish I remembered his name.”

Derek had yet to meet the notorious cock-cheese, who by other accounts was worse than his son described. Derek held a high opinion of Deborah and often wondered how such a gentle, lovely woman crossed paths with such a fiend in the first place. He’d seen similar situations when his parents or Jonathon’s brought home a weeping woman accompanied by a small child too traumatized to weep, before calling the women’s refuge set up as a co-operative between local church groups and the police. It never made sense. Derek put down his magazine and gently brought his beloved living contradiction into a comforting embrace. “Why didn’t Deborah take you to the refuge after he brought you back?” he asked.

Archie’s unusually harsh, barking laugh caused Derek to flinch. “He used to be a ruddy copper, Detective bloody Sargent. He knows how to find all those places. They only kicked him out and put him away when he caught us, after, because…” Archie stopped and began rubbishing on about something in the article he was reading on ancient Incan llama farming.

“You can trust me sweetheart. I want to help keep you away from him.”

“It won’t help. I can’t leave Mum there and she won’t leave without me.”

“Is that why he broke your leg? Were you protecting her from him?”

“Even their clothes were made from llama hair.”

Derek continued asking in a patient, concerned manner until Archie lost his temper.

“When I was nine that arsehole beat and kicked a baby out of her. He leaves her on the floor bleeding and screaming in pain so I’m the only one there when this thing comes out of her and I spew all over the floor. That’s when he walks back in ‘cause he forgot his wallet, calls me a pathetic faggot and makes me clean it up, **all of it**. I’m carrying a towel full of boke and what I later find out is my dead baby sister to the bin out back when the old bat across the lane way sees me and starts screaming blue murder. I drop everything and start screaming too because I think she reckons I did it. Do you know how long they put him away for? Twelve days. Mum was still in hospital, they had to give her a hysterectomy, and he strolls up to Donk’s house with one of his fellow arseholes in uniform, takes me home and flogs me for making him lose his job without giving me a single bruise to show for it. Cock-cheese knows how to do it without leaving a mark when he wants to. He doesn’t lose it this bad often,” Archie gestured to his plastered leg, “especially not in front of witnesses like this last time. Mum reckons that’s why I’m queer, what happened when I was nine. Not that it bothers her that I am. I think, I think she needs a reason for it and because he blames her for me—not for me anything in particular mind you, just for me—she sees it as her fault for letting that happen in front of me, for getting me involved.”

He continued in a smaller voice that frightened Derek and made him pity him further. “He stayed around to make sure I started doing as he said then nicked off to the pub. Mum tried to move after he’d gone but couldn’t so she whispered “No, baby don’t. Run, run away.” but I couldn’t leave her. The only reason I haven’t killed that fucker for what he’s done is because I don’t want her to be disappointed in me. I thought, when she found that magazine I thought ‘this is it, she hates me as much as he does. I can wait until he gets home and bump him off on my way out, nothing for her to worry about, all good’. I’m not nice and normal like you and your friends, and never will be. Sometimes I want to be, pretend to be, especially around you because I love you. But now you know, so now I can’t. Why wouldn’t you leave it alone?”

“How are you remotely sane?” Derek wondered how Archie functioned on an hourly basis.

“I’m not. The school makes special allowances for me because I’m a special case requiring special circumstances. I can keep my radical hair and jewellery, spend lessons that piss me off in the library or the music room if it’s empty, and take days off without a note from home because proper coppers told them to leave me alone. Keeping me at school keeps me and the streets safe apparently.”

“I’ll keep you safe,” Derek promised. He felt like that’s what he was born to do. His mother insisted there was a reason for everything, that God had a plan. Rescuing Archie was the only explanation for Derek being gay since he’d never been attracted to anyone else. Occasionally admiring Jonathon didn’t count.

“How?”

Derek saw a stem of hope struggling through the strangling vines of anger, despair and retribution and wanted to set it free, watch it flower. What could this youth beside him achieve once released from this living nightmare? “I don’t know. So much ugliness has happened to you, yet, you’re beautiful.”

“Bullshit, even the cock that made me reckons I’m a wretched freak that doesn’t deserve to live.”

“Hidden away under a bushel of brutality shines a light I can’t resist. I’ll burn my wings to ash protecting you sweetheart.” Derek didn’t kiss or touch his beloved, simply looked at him.

“Don’t tell anyone what I told you, please? Even after you dump me?”

“I’m never going to dump you, so can you stop picking fights? You’ve been in my dreams since auditions for the school production of _Oliver_.”

“That was two years ago!”

“I hated Ben Watts with a passion for being Fagin but I hated him more when the Artful Dodger kissed him at the dance after the last show. I hated myself for thinking of another boy like that so I confessed my crush on you to Father Theodore. He told me the devil had gotten into my soul to eat my heart. Then he made me do all sorts of penance but it didn’t stop my heart rate changing at the sound of your name. Now you’re here, next to me, telling me the darkest day of your life. That other stuff happened to you, it isn’t you. When you leave that behind while we’re alone together, talking, kissing and touching, I can see that you’re perfect.” He lay half on top of Archie in order to slide both arms underneath him for a three-quarters body cuddle while kissing him until his arms and mouth became sore.

“You could never have been Fagin, Derek. You’re a complete Oliver.”

Derek recognised the masked compliment for what it was and began singing I’ll Do Anything from the musical. Archie joined him. His voice had broken since the last time Derek heard him sing this song and it affected Derek more than before. Archie changed the lyrics on the last verse and these improvisations were far dirtier than the ones which almost saw him removed from the cast during rehearsals.

Derek laughed as they finished the last “anything for you!”

“While I’m here you can touch me, suck me, just don’t try to fuck me.” Archie’s hip movement was restricted by the cast but his intention was clear.

“Don’t you trust me sweetheart?” _because I am_ beyond _ready to fuck you right now._

“Takes too long to get ready, we got no rubbers, cream’s more than half whipped, and I don’t want to. Shut up Derek and suck my knob.”

λ

It didn’t feel or taste like he imagined it would, which, really, how could he imagine it accurately having nothing to compare it to or anyone to ask? _Excuse me Jon, pop this in your mouth and give an opinion on texture and flavour. ‘Why’ you ask, oh simple curiosity I wasn’t actually going to put my mouth on someone’s cock and lick it._ He didn’t have time to wonder why he picked on Jonathon for his hypothetical scenario.

“It’s not called a blow job because you blow on it Derek!”

“Have you done this before?”

“No.”

“Then shut up.”

“I’m so close. Just put the tip back in and lick it for me, just a bit. Please? Like when you started, that was brilliant. Please angel, please.” His hips emphasised his plea.

Derek hardened again. He held Archie’s cock steady and repeatedly licked over the slit. Archie trembled to the rhythm and begged some more.

“Yes, please, suck a little, just the head, roll it in your mouth like a gobstopper, ooh suck me.”

Derek did as Archie said because the way Archie moved and sounded made Derek hornier than he’d ever been. If that wretched plaster wasn’t there Derek would coerce him into spreading his legs so he could fuck him like in the picture he tore out of Archie’s porn magazine. He moaned at the thought of those legs forming a capital ‘L’, the upper one resting on his shoulder while his dick marked the inside of his territory, hand pumping that cock at the perfect pace to make them come together. Archie made that unique noise that signalled climax and Derek’s face retreated noisily.

“Arse!” Archie cursed him but Derek vigorously rubbed his thumb over the most sensitive part of the saliva slicked knob the way he knew Archie liked before sliding his cock against him and squeezing them together so Archie’s cum slicked both shafts in his hand. “Oh god, Angel, yeah!”

Archie knocked Derek’s hand out of the way and grabbed Derek’s cock. Derek immediately thrust into it without waiting for Archie to start squeezing or pumping.

“I want to fuck you Sweetheart, so much. Let me be the one to fuck you, let me love you, let me, let me o-hoa-hohh-oahh, oah, oah, ah.” Derek landed on and beside him, sticky and spent. He danced his tongue around in Archie’s mouth and joined him in finger painting with their spunk. “Taste it,” he suggested but the gruffness of his voice made it sound like a command. Archie did. Derek, too grossed out earlier to let his sweetheart blow his load in his mouth, bent down to taste their combined flavours off Archie’s pale belly. The way Archie writhed beneath him prompted him to keep licking until not even sweat was left. It wasn’t the most pleasant condiment, Derek certainly wouldn’t spread it on his toast but it’s _him_ , the purest essence of the one he loved, the building blocks that gave Archie those eyes, that hair, those freckles, possibly even the laugh, so even if it tasted completely vile it would still be perfect. “You’re perfect.”

“I love you.”

Derek kissed him carefully with such long, loitering kisses that Archie fell asleep in the middle of one. Derek found it easy to say provided no-one could hear: “I love you too.”

He ensured the electric fan oscillated in a manner to cool them both and lay down with one arm across his beloved’s middle. He wanted to roll them together in a misshapen ball but it was too hot, especially after what they’d been doing. He pressed his lips to a bare shoulder and decided ‘I love you’ delivered from those faintly snoring lips was the perfect end to any day.

5 August 1975

The bedroom floor was not particularly comfortable but was currently far less sweaty and crowded than Derek’s bed. The floor became more uncomfortable once a naked youth with a plaster cast tripped over him and landed with the plastered foot in his face.

“Why are you on the bloody floor?”

“What are you _doing_?”

“I need to wee.”

They managed to get the temporary cripple upright after much scrabbling, shoving and “Get your hand off my nuts!”

“And good morning to you sir,” Derek called after Archie’s naked back.

His grouchy reply came from the hallway. “The Weazl does not do mornings.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Derek muttered as he straightened his bed. Then he stripped it and arranged Archie’s crumpled clothes on the bare mattress. On his way to the laundry he heard Archie exclaim “You’ve got a shower!” in the same way a vintage car enthusiast might declare appreciation for a Model T Ford.

“In you get then,” Derek called back with a smile. “It’s bound to be easier to manage than a bath.”

“ _Ah **!**_ ” A series of metallic clanging clunks followed by the sound of a sudden, large spray told Derek the tap had come off. Archie must have turned it on too roughly. The resulting chuckle reminded Derek of childhood summers spent running through a lawn sprinkler with his sister and cousins. Oh crud! His family was due home today and he’d just woken up after sleeping with another boy. He stood there naked with an armload of evidence while equally naked Archie sang “touch-a-touch-a-touch-a touch me, I wanna be dir-ir-ir-ty” in the Landon family’s shower. Derek opened the bathroom door to tell him to stop in case these factors miraculously combined to bring his family to the front door at this worst possible moment. The resonant “thrill me, fill me, fulfil me” coupled with the view of sudsy wet nakedness made him hard. The suddenly pained plea for help was irresistible. The messy bed linen dropped to the floor.

λ

“I’m wearing your underwear,” Archie gloated as Derek drove him home.

Derek’s equally gloating grin encouraged Archie to lean closer so he could repeat the phrase directly into Derek’s ear.

“Drive to the far end of the city where nobody knows us so I can yell “I’m wearing Derek Landon’s underwear” out the window.”

“You’re proud of that aren’t you?” Derek was surprisingly proud of it himself.

Archie nodded. His long hair was held back with a rubber band because he forgot to bring more than himself to Derek’s house.

“You need a haircut.”

“Don’t care. Boringly perfect Derek Landon sucked my knob, washed my back, and now I’m wearing his underwear. Nothing can ruin this day for me.” His sunny joy became choked by thunderheads, the darkest, most threatening hail-bearing kind as they approached the Tanner house. “Except that.”

_So that’s cock-cheese._ Derek thought he’d be taller and more muscular, not some wiry terrier of a man. No denying he fathered the young man sitting beside him, though. Derek felt the change in his sweetheart before he saw it. Even without the outrageous hair Derek couldn’t reconcile Archie, boyfriend who displayed juvenile enthusiasm over things as ordinary as showers, with Weazl, son of cock-cheese.

“Want me to keep driving? We’ll go anywhere you want.” Anything to save Archie from this menace.

“No. I have to be here when Mum gets back. If Mum was already home he wouldn’t be sitting out front without a beer.”

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

“He’ll want to know who you are, why you’re here, and whether we…He’ll ask you stuff, put on the copper act and interrogate you.”

“I’ve been mowing your lawn. Tell him I had to drive you to the bank so you could pay me.”

“He’ll bitch about the money. Leave it. I’ll think of something.”

“I don’t want to leave you with him.”

“Kiss for luck?”

Derek nervously licked his top lip and shook his head. “Why make things worse?”

“He already reckons I’m a faggot. Being kissed by my quality boyfriend in front of him would be a right kick in the guts.”

“No.” Derek was afraid. Someone would see him kiss another boy. The cock-cheese would loudly proclaim Derek’s homosexuality to the neighbourhood. Everyone would know. He no longer felt pride in the fact that Archie was wearing his underwear and wanted to shout it out. What they did in his room was disgusting. “No.”

“Will I be seeing you again?”

“Don’t ask that.” _The stuff I licked off you, dear God. Don’t come near me. Let me forget._

“I thought it...Last night…Aren’t we…?” There was nothing Weazl about the youth looking miserably at his fingers, linked so tightly together their colour changed. This was Archie, the mummy’s hero with romantically hopeful ideals.

_Wake up to yourself Derek. You love him. Help him escape._ “I’ll be coming to mow your lawn again won’t I? Or tutor you in math, he can’t complain then.”

“I love you.”

Derek wondered how Archie found that phrase so easy to say, especially to another boy. _He’s so brave._ “Be careful Sweetheart, please. Call me when you can so I know you’re both alright. My parents or Jonathon’s will help you and Deborah. They won’t need to know we’re in love to do that.” _In fact it’s better that they don’t._

Derek watched the familiar arrogant strut and realised Archie did not need Weazl gear to strike fear into others, but he waited at the kerb just in case.

“Where have you been useless?” The man’s voice was sharp and hard but it took more than that to break his son.

“I can’t work since you fucked up my leg so I’ve been sucking your boss’s balls to pay rent while you enjoyed your latest serve of porridge. Some gratitude would be appropriate.”

“Don’t get smart with me fuckwit.”

“How long would they put you away for attacking a cripple do you reckon? Long enough to learn you like it up the arse? Small turd like you, they’d make you like it.” He turned to Derek with a cocky wave. “Thanks for your help Landon.”

Derek despaired over his sweetheart’s attitude as he tooted the horn then spent the next thirty hours worrying that Archie would get himself killed.

6 August 1975

Sue Landon entered her brother’s room without knocking. The Landon parents insisted on an open door policy because they believed privacy in adolescents invited opportunities for dangerous behaviours. Derek no longer denied they had a point.

“Charity Case calling,” Sue sang like an Avon lady as she sat on the edge of Derek’s bed.

“His name is-”

“Weazl’s words brother dear. He says you have to make it quick before ‘it’ gets back.”

Derek didn’t think about how his reaction looked to Sue as he dashed to the phone. “Archie? Hello?”

“Just letting you know we’re alive and that I’m keeping my head down. Was hoping to light his fuse and set him off so he’d be gone again but no such luck. I’ll call when I can, if you want.”

“Please. I’m usually home after eight during summer holidays but no calls are permitted after ten, in or out.”

“Not a problem. That time together, it was great, really um, yeah. You’re like my guardian angel or something. Thanks, for all of it.”

“It was. You’re welcome. Keep me informed.”

“Is someone there?”

“It’s always best to assume so.”

“Oh. You know, um, that stuff I told you-”

“It’s okay. I understand. It was—no it always is, isn’t it? Hard for you I mean, even when he’s not there. You know you’re not like that don’t you? You won’t be him.” Derek hoped he sounded like a friend rather than a lover.

“Got to go.”

Derek said goodbye to silence and wasn’t entirely surprised to see super snoopy Sue hovering nearby. He ignored her and returned to his room. Sue followed. He continued to ignore her as he lay front down on his bed with a book his sweetheart suggested he borrow from the school library, and that his parents recommended for pulping. Unperturbed, Sue sat at his feet. After a thoughtful silence she spoke in a carefully inoffensive voice.

“You do know Weazl’s a homosexual?”

Derek was surprised to hear the nickname from his sister’s lips then realised he shouldn’t be. _Weazl_ was notoriously notorious after all whereas _Archie_ was a private entity. “The entire school knows about Tanner’s boy-kissing hobby Sue. Don’t tell the parents though, please? Mum has been horrible enough toward him and our friendship without handing her heavy artillery.”

“Is there a girlfriend like Jonathon says or…?”

“Not anymore. She broke up with me a few days ago.” Derek was astounded by how easily the lie flowed. He didn’t need to think, it was simply there when he needed it.

“Mrs Fuller said you brought home a criminal punk with a plastered leg.” Sue’s high and pretentious whine mimicked Mrs Fuller to a t.

Derek placed his bookmark between the pages of Doris Lessing’s _Briefing for a Descent into Hell_ and put it face down on the bed as he sat up. Sue obviously had things on her mind that Derek needed to erase and replace in order to protect his relationship from sisterly conjecture. “Have you heard how Tanner’s leg got broken?”

“There are so many versions it’s a bit like Ripley’s _Believe it or Not_. Did he tell you?” Sue asked with her primmest ‘not fishing for gossip so give me details’ expression.

Derek nodded even though he’d only heard Cheng’s version. “But I’m not passing it on. I brought him here twice and he slept over one night in order to use the shower. His house doesn’t have one and using a bath with a full leg cast isn’t easy. What would do if someone you knew had to endure something like that at home?”

“Invite them over I suppose. Mum and Dad bring home enough troubled souls of their own so I’ll be on your side if they try to raise a fuss about your boy-kissing Charity Case.”

Derek was less surprised by Sue’s sudden giggle than her support. Normally his younger sister tried to invent trouble for him to potentially get into, not offer to help him out. “What?” he asked curiously.

“I shan’t be at all terrified the next time Weazl passes us in the corridor. I might even say hello and introduce myself as your receptionist then sit back and watch the nerds fall over themselves worshipping my bravery when I don’t cringe against the lockers with the rest of them.”

“You’re a peanut. May I ask how you knew it was Tanner?” Derek refused to call him by that silly nickname.

“He asked ‘Would Mr Derek Landon be kind enough to receive a telephone call from his Charity Case?’ in the same cutely posh Artful Dodger voice he used in the school production two years ago. Except, well, he’s a bit raunchy now he’s all grown up. Jane thinks if her skirt is short enough she can straighten him out.” A certain shade of blush flooded Sue’s cheeks to suggest she indulged similar thoughts.

“Susan!”

“Lighten up. You’ve been so odd since the Captains Bench and Wild Wood began sharing social space. Have they offered you drugs? One girl in the year below mine said that really good looking one dripped her some acid and felt her up behind the senior bike shed.”

“No, they haven’t. It’s ‘drop’ acid, and unless you wish to become a customer of the VD clinic you will keep away from Donald Kennelly. This is my last year at school and I hope to make a positive impression on the most troublesome younger students. Do you really want Tanner and that girl who wears a bike chain for a necklace leading your school after my year graduates?”

“No one would possibly vote for them, surely!”

“Tanner rules the Wild Wood little sister. Even teachers daren’t touch him. If that lot should decide to put two of their own in charge of the student body, are you going to stop them?”

“You truly are the King of Community Service, nauseatingly well behaved, and I detest you. Detest you, I say! All previous overtures of sibling alliance are hereby withdrawn. I bid good day to you sir, but only because proper breeding and decorum insist that I must!” Sue flounced out melodramatically, making Derek laugh before leaving him to ponder the strangeness of his situation. He just fed his sister a large load of manure he’d miraculously dredged up from nowhere. Not only did Sue swallow every mouthful but she believed her older brother to be sweeter than candy floss, purer than rain, straighter than a plumb line, selfless and—to quote his punk homosexual sweetheart—perfectly boring!

A beaming smile of victory spread slowly from cheek to cheek as he opened his library book. If he fooled Sue then his parents should pose no problems at all.

λ

Mr and Mrs Landon were so proud of their son’s compassion for the poor unfortunate Tanner boy that Derek felt ashamed of the way he touched Archie’s bottom and kissed his shoulder while helping him shower.

_I took advantage_ he thought, and shrunk from parental praise. Mother mistook his discomfort for humility, which made her even more proud, which made him feel worse. Derek retreated to his room to escape the perpetually escalating mortification and closed his door. Nobody pulled him up for breaking a major family rule. They believed he was an angel who would never intentionally do wrong. _I pressed against him and considered asking him to let me come on his back, thought of holding his hips and rubbing my dick between his soapy arse-cheeks._ He grew hard thinking about how that would look, feel, oh god—sound, and touched himself. _I love him and he loves me but it’s still wrong to think like that. From now on: nothing more than kissing; no more lying next to each other, not even to talk; no touching; no dirty flirty talk; no inappropriate thoughts; only tenderness and respect._

…After he relieved this hard-on.

λ

Jonathon, Nigel and Andrew invaded the Landon home as soon as they hit town. Derek had difficulty relating to their holiday anecdotes. Although he regretted staying home, nothing his friends said made him wish he’d been with them instead. He could have gone with his family, should have done anything with the last few days but what he did. He’d probably ruined everything.

7 August 1975

Derek waited until his family went outside to telephone the Tanner house. Thankfully cock-cheese didn’t answer.

“I’ll get him for you. He could do with cheering up.” Deborah greeted Derek as though he was the perfect role model he’s supposed to be. Surely she harboured some suspicions about what went on in her son’s room?

He never thought of it like that before. Archie may be Derek’s boyfriend but he was primarily Deborah’s little boy. Derek felt sick over his disrespectful behaviour. In her house, in his parents’ house, in the same bathroom his little sister used. He’s filth! But he didn’t want Archie to think of himself like that. Derek led him astray with verbally mild yet hormonally potent persistence…

“Hello my personal angel.” Archie sounded pleased to hear from Derek, not ashamed. It made Derek feel cleaner and brave.

“Hello Sweetheart. Ah, unfortunately there won’t be many opportunities for us to be together during the remainder of summer, if any, but, um, I want you to know I won’t be thinking of you any less often, or any less passionately. I don’t want you harbouring any regrets.”

“Oh my goodness!” Sue declared from the doorway and Derek slammed the handset down in a panic before his boyfriend could reply. “You haven’t been dumped at all! What did you get up to while we were gone?”

“Go away Sue. No, stay here and tell Mum I’m spending the day at Jon’s. Suggest she telephone to check if you don’t believe me.” Derek hurried out before Sue could argue and used the phone box near Jonathon’s to call Archie. Archie answered immediately. Derek hurriedly explained about Sue and where he’d be then asked Archie to find an excuse for Derek to drive him somewhere before the holidays were over so they could spend another day together.

Jonathon invited Andrew and Nigel over after Derek arrived and they regaled him with stories of bikini clad bimbos with barely concealed breasts and bottoms of various sizes. His friends had no idea how irrelevant their tales were or how horrified he was by the supposedly humorous and saucy postcards Nigel purchased for his entertainment. He couldn’t imagine asking if Nigel had any without girls on them. He could easily imagine how horrified they’d be by the semi-naked to naked adventures of Tanner and Landon however, so simply nodded, whistled and made false lewd comments during appropriate parts of the conversation.

After a nice visit to fantasy land he was back on the long and lonely road of reality.

9 August 1975

Jonathon and Derek talked as they lazily rode their pushbikes with no specific destination.

“Drew and Nigel are unable to distinguish between friend-that-is-female and girlfriend so they don’t understand why nothing happened between me and Veronica,” confided Jonathon.

“So you didn’t win the challenge then?” Derek asked him.

“That was meant purely as piffle, which you know. Sue said Tanner was at your house, twice. What valuables went missing? Hopefully those paintings a pair of four year olds could have painted with their feet?”

Derek laughed. It would be nice to tell Jonathon the truth about Archie. “He didn’t steal anything, although he did insult Sinatra.”

“Proof that poverty does not equate to lack of taste,” Jonathon called as he raced ahead with a smirk and the chase was on. Without warning, the movement of Jonathon’s backside caught Derek’s attention, _very nice_. Distressed by that thought, he averted his gaze, and almost ran over a poodle dyed purple to match its owner’s perm.

“Hooligan!” the woman snapped then fussed over her dog, not caring that Derek became caught in a prickly hedge.

Jonathon immediately turned to offer some highly amused assistance. Derek didn’t want Jon touching him in case some psychic link revealed the reason for his predicament.

“I can get up by myself.”

“Like I can spin a hula hoop on my dick?”

An image of Jonathon standing naked with both hands on his head as he wiggled his hips to perform that feat leapt to mind. “ _?_ … **Never** say anything like that to me again.” _because I should_ not _be picturing that so clearly…or getting a hard-on over it. Hormones, be gone!_

Jonathon laughed and disentangled Derek from the hedge, blithely unaware that this common physical contact made Derek uneasy. _What is_ wrong _with me? It’s_ Jon _for pity’s sake!_ Derek ensured his gaze stays above Jonathon’s shoulders for the rest of the afternoon.

Unfortunately the idea of Jon spinning a hula hoop on his erect dick lodged itself deep in Derek’s brain and refused to budge.

11 August 1975

Derek’s closest friends asked why he’d gone so quiet lately. He’d never been the loudest of their quartet but lately the televised cricket test provided more fodder for conversation than he did. His reaction to Jonathon two days ago continued to bother him, mostly because Archie was the only boy he’d found ‘that kind’ of attractive before. Derek had always considered Jon handsome but that didn’t compare to the way he saw Archie. If he spoke he might accidentally voice his confusion and expose his homosexuality. His parents would find out…

“So? How fared your plans for some holiday amore?” Nigel asked while they spent the day at the public swimming pool. The three adventurers had already shared their rather comedic failures, although Andrew gained an incredibly pretty pen friend.

Derek shrugged noncommittally so Andrew tried to provoke a more satisfactory response. “In other words, why on earth are you here instead of pretending you’re here while you’re actually off pashing your bird? That’s what I’d be doing if Patricia was close enough.”

“I doubt she’d let you Drew,” Jonathon said pointedly and mouthed ‘Frigid’ behind his hand before questioning Derek. “Was it over before it began you poor thing?”

“We’re still together,” Derek confessed and felt better for sharing some of his secret with Jon. “We have to keep it private to avoid mutual parental disapproval.” Both statements were entirely true. Talking about Archie without actually mentioning him helped un-muddle Derek’s conscience.

His friends began cursing the negative effect of fathers on young sex-lives, er romance. They unanimously agreed that paternal intervention was the major preventative of unmarried sex while mother-in-laws quashed the marital kind. “It’s a miracle the human race reproduces at all!” exclaimed Andrew.

“So? How fared your plans for some holiday amore?” Nigel asked again. “How far did you and your lady travel?”

“As far as the best friend’s house,” Derek said with a straight face.

“Avoidance!” Nigel accused with a finger pointed at Derek’s nose.

“A gentleman never willingly besmirches the reputation of his sweetheart.”

His friends laughed and cajoled throughout the remainder of the afternoon but Derek remained firm. He half wanted to brag about the kissing, mutual orgasms and especially the underwear anecdote but then he would have to gender bend everything into lies. Instead he effectively silenced their provocative japes with another, more tenderly spoken, unblemished truth. “We love each other.”

Andrew, Nigel and Jonathon looked at Derek like he was the picture they found of the hoax mermaid created by sewing the top half of a dead monkey to the bottom half of a dead fish. _Good grief, if that’s how they react to thinking I’m in love with a_ girl _…!_

“Lucky you,” Jonathon gently broke the uncomfortable quiet, surprising them all. “I hope it works out so we can meet her.”

Nigel and Andrew focussed their stares on Jonathon.

“What? Even lust bunnies like me have feelings. Tawdry, shallow feelings they may be…”

The quartet splashed, swam, and lazed about until the receding sunlight sent them home.

17-20 August 1975

Sunday Mass had never been the high point of Derek’s week but he listened avidly to the current sermon because recent events gave certain familiar verses a new perspective.

**_Song of Solomon 1:2—4_ **

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth; for thy love is better than wine. Because of the savour of thy good ointments thy name is as ointment poured forth, therefore do the virgins love thee…The king hath brought me into his chambers; we will be glad and rejoice in thee, we will remember thy love more than wine…

**_1:13—17_ **

A bundle of myrrh is my well-beloved unto me; he shall lie all night betwixt my breasts. My beloved is unto me as a cluster of henna in the vineyards of En-gedi. Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast dove’s eyes. Behold, thou art fair, my beloved, yea pleasant; also our bed is green…

At home, he sat outside while his mother prepared the usual Sabbath fare and drew boxes around the pertinent verses with red biro. Verses 13—17 weighed so heavily on his mind that he wrote them on notepaper beneath the salutation: _‘For my Sweetheart,’_ and concluded with _‘we may not have a bed yet, and when we do I doubt it will be green, but I defy you to fault the relevance of the rest of this quote to our situation. Remember that: 1. Thou art fair, 2. Thou art my beloved, and 3. Thou art pleasant.’_

Derek did not sign his name before putting the message into a small envelope labelled _Sweetheart_. He placed this sealed envelope into a blank, regular sized envelope along with a polite note to pass it on, and affixed a postage stamp. Doubly enveloped message and biro went into his pocket. Then he took the family dog for her evening walk and paused at the postage box at the far end of the route, addressed the outer envelope to Cheng—whose first name he didn’t know, unless it was Cheng, he couldn’t be sure with Asians—and posted it.

Three days later Sue lurked in Derek’s doorway, smirking smugly.

“What evil are you concocting now, dear sister?”

“A noisy, smelly van pulled up in front of our house then a lovely Asian girl leapt out and put this in our letterbox.” Sue edged away from the doorway and held a small card at arm’s length between finger and thumb so it dangled over the bannister. “I wonder whether dropping it might lead to some drastic consequences. You know Mother’s opinion of foreigners.”

Derek leapt on Sue before she finished speaking; silently cursing her, the unexpected reply and his foolishness for writing to Archie in the first place. Only after threatening to tell the Wild Wood about Sue’s crush on Kennelly did Derek receive his message.

“You opened it!”

“Yes. Her handwriting is beautiful, too.” Sue laughed as she ran away to avoid physical retaliation.

Thankfully Archie wasn’t a complete imbecile and left no clues to the writer’s identity.

_Thanks Angel,_

_Definitely not green. Traditional timber perhaps?_

_Love you too. X_

Derek was pleased with this reply. He could keep this on his desk, use it as a bookmark, or leave it on the kitchen table and his parents wouldn’t find anything alarming should they read it. He didn’t find the term ‘angel’ feminine since none of the angels mentioned in either Old or New Testament were female. Derek wondered if the scriptures were truly as—what was that term his beloved used?—homophobic as generally proclaimed. Perhaps he could read through them with Archie to help his sweetheart find faith in something aside from the Wild Wood.

27 August 1975

Jonathon developed a plan for Derek to spend not only an afternoon but also a good portion of the evening with his heart’s desire. Jonathon wished to see a stage show which parents of the Captains Bench unanimously tried to have banned due to unconfirmed rumours of partial nudity. Jonathon and his new friend Veronica hoped to confirm or deny these rumours in person and then pass the information on to their friends.

“We allegedly go to some boring educational boffin thing you like dragging me to. Why you continue to try is beyond me. Instead, I take the train to watch naked people on a small stage while you whisper words of worldly romance and eagerly progress through as many layers of clothing as humanly possible. Be sure to meet me at the correct train station at the correct time with your pitiful automobile and we can fine tune our mutual alibi on the drive home. As only two of us know anything about this scheme it cannot go wrong—provided you can free your bird from her cage.”

Derek drove to the appointed railway station which was conveniently within walking distance of both the ‘Tedium Emporium’ as Jonathon labelled the local gallery and the ‘bird cage’ as he dubbed the home of Derek’s anonymous love interest. Jonathon had no idea why that was a truly bad code name but Derek had no intention of clarifying, so the title stayed.

“Eight thirty, be here,” said Jonathon sternly.

“The vehicle will be if I’m not. Wait by the car. If you see anyone who could foil our plans tell them I’m in the loo.”

“May you gain all possible satisfaction from your endeavour,” Jonathon decreed with aplomb.

“May your experience eclipse all anticipation,” Derek replied with equal pomposity. They pulled juvenile faces through the window as the train departed. Derek strolled to the hell that housed heaven within its walls, with a merry whistle and a smile for everyone he passed.

Donald Kennelly’s van was in the driveway. Derek’s smile disappeared.

Donk was preparing to leave. Derek’s smile returned.

Cheng and Wren were leaving with him. Derek’s smile dimmed the sun.

Archie was going with them. Derek scowled and very nearly swore. He’d decided against phoning ahead in case cock-cheese found a way to foil his plans. He’d never considered Kennelly. _Nemesis_ , he thought with clenched teeth.

“Hop in Landon. I’ve got room for you right here.” Archie patted his lap and Derek noticed the cast had been removed.

“Your cast is gone!”

“Well spotted Watson. We’re taking the crutches back to a different hospital, one that pays for their return. Then we’re checking out premises for a gig whilst I digest whatever my ill-gotten gains can purchase, and then I’m all yours for trigonometry revision—which is a euphemism.”

“I dunno what you said just then,” Donk complained from the front.

Archie paraphrased for Donk. “Dump crutches at the hospital, nosh, look at that club, then you fuck off home while Landon melts my brain with triangle math.”

“I hate triangle math!” Appeased, Donk started the vehicle.

Derek chose not to sit on the temptingly offered lap and started an argument in a low, blunt voice instead. “You told Kennelly.”

“No.”

“No? Just now: I’ve got room for you.”

“I say stuff like that all the time. He won’t take it seriously if you keep your mouth shut.”

Cheng ordered Derek into the back with the rest of them and pretended to introduce Wren for the first time as Archie slid the door closed.

“Best not to call Weazl by whatever sobriquets you normally call him. Even Donk’s not that stupid,” Wren whispered as the van started moving.

Derek silently admitted Wren wasn’t stupid either. His boyfriend liked surrounding himself with interesting and intelligent people—apart from Kennelly. The passengers grasped the sides of the vehicle and each other whenever Donk took a corner. Archie delighted in falling onto Derek and manhandling him at every opportunity.

“You have no concept of subtlety have you Tanner?” Derek asked when they could talk without Donk overhearing.

“The entire Wild Wood and almost half the teachers knew I fancied you before you made your not so debonair advance.”

“Who? How?” Derek had been secretly observing Archie for months but had to be told by Cheng! Donk opened the back before Derek received an answer. He then spent eighty two minutes being publicly ignored by Weazl when he’d dreamed of being privately adored by Archie.

Today sucked pigeon farts through a straw.

λ

Wren and Cheng behaved no differently than before. Kennelly interacted with Derek slightly more than he did at school whereas Tanner behaved as though the quadrangle had simply grown bigger and changed postal codes.

“He doesn’t know what to do,” Wren explained while the others stomped about on the stage to argue acoustics, logistics and other things neither Derek nor Wren could give informed opinions on. “If he talks to you Donk might find out you’re together, which you clearly don’t want. Plus he’ll have Donk’s reaction to deal with, which none of us want. Weazl doesn’t normally hide from anyone but that horrible father of his. If Weazl wants to snog someone, he snogs him. If he wants to pound someone’s face in, he does it. You confuse him and that makes him cranky.”

“Everything makes him cranky.”

“Well yeah, but the degrees vary dramatically.”

Derek was about to discover one thing that made Archie crankier than most: prettified Glam boys. Derek assumed the figure in tight, paint decorated jeans and pastel t-shirt was female so the sensation in his loins was pleasantly surprising. Perhaps Father Theodore was right and his physical attraction to Archie was symptomatic of excessive pubescent hormonal confusion. No, that was a boy putting up posters. A very attractive boy, Derek decided as they came closer. A very attractive boy with fingernails painted to match his jeans, eyes shadowed to match his shirt and glossy lips. Derek wondered if that gloss felt slippery, sticky, wet or dry.

Archie stopped at a lamp post to show the recently applied poster to Donk. “That’s the sort of effect I want. Why can’t you put together something like that? Tear it off.”

Derek only heard because his ears spent months straining to listen for that specific voice. His eyes watched the fluid movements of poster boy performing his task. Derek smiled as the boy caught him looking and rewarded him with a shy, shiny smile. He looked so soft compared to Archie. Derek struck up a conversation and contemplated how easy it would be to be in love with a less cantankerous soul. Poster boy’s name was Rhett and Derek found him to be frank and quite lovely.

“Oi Landon,” Archie called sharply, “eyes this way!”

Derek and Archie stared daggers at each other. Donk almost made the connection. “Landon’s gay! Bad luck though Archibald, he likes proper poofters, not manly ones like you.”

“Fuck off Donald. Get your arse here Derek, now.”

Derek turned back to find poster boy about to cross the road. He called after him to apologise. “Sorry…”

“Go back to your owner,” Rhett sneered at Derek. “Never mind, he came to get you.”

Archie laughed coarsely. Derek was caught in the middle as Punk and Glam took each other’s measure. Neither liked what they saw.

“You don’t want this one anyway Yum-Yum,” Archie told Glam. “He’s a bullshitting, manipulative, self-important…forget it, have him. You’re not from our school so he won’t have to pretend you don’t exist until he needs you to get him off.”

“You know it isn’t like that,” Derek protested. “You’ve been ignoring me since we got out of the van.”

The other three began window shopping. Donk asked Cheng how long this had been going on and why didn’t Weazl tell him these things. Archie took that as permission to blow up in Derek’s face.

“You’re the chicken shit arsehole who wants our relationship kept secret but invites me for naughty sleepovers! You can’t talk to me in public yet happily chase this prettified Glam boy across town? It’s twats like him that get the rest of us beaten up.” He gestured to the boy sneaking away. “Oi! Where’re you going?”

“Away from you arsehole, I don’t need your shit.”

“Are you going to beat him up you hypocritical…?” Derek stopped. Archie wasn’t paying attention, not to him.

“Can you leave us a poster that hasn’t got glue on it?” Archie eagerly asked as though he hadn’t just called the younger boy a twat.

Glam boy stopped. “What for?” Rhett asked. Like Derek, he was clearly wrong-footed by the sudden change in attitude.

“Because they’re brilliant,” Archie replied in his ‘any moron can see that’ voice as he hurried after Glam. Derek followed.

“Thanks.” Rhett appeared confused and suspicious.

Derek was also confused so he smiled and conversed casually in an attempt to put them both at ease. “Your school’s putting on _Romeo and Juliet?_ I prefer _Midsummer Night’s Dream_.”

“Me too,” Rhett said with a smile which wasn’t as lovely as the ones Derek received earlier. It failed to reach the remarkable blue eyes which were now polluted with distrust and aimed at Archie, who snorted and shook his head in amused derision.

“That is the gayest play ever Angel. I cannot believe you’re not out.”

“He prefers Hamlet,” Derek explained and was granted another timid smile from Rhett.

“Oh come on Derek: the **Queen** of the **Fairies** falls for the guy named **Bottom** who has the head of an **arse**. How much symbolism do you need?” Archie asked with another snort.

Glam boy Rhett chuckled then swayed back minutely as the punk aimed a wink and a wicked grin his way. Derek did not like the way the dynamic kept shifting.

“It’s ass you menace, not arse. Are you claiming the Bard was gay?” Derek began to think Archie painted everything with the pink triangle.

“No, but he was certainly a friend to the cause. Ask your boyfriend if he plays drums while I have a proper look at this.”

Derek tapped Archie’s arm and asked “Do you play drums Sweetheart?”

“I love it when you try to be a smartarse Angel.” The look Archie gave him felt like a kiss. Derek felt jealous again when Archie turned back to Rhett but relaxed when Archie’s stance and tone became professional. “You made these didn’t you? There’s similar scrollwork on your jeans and left thumbnail.” He pointed. “You’re right-handed, right?”

Derek and Rhett looked together. Derek didn’t notice the detail earlier because he’d been too mesmerised by shiny lips and narrow hips. How could he have been distracted from his boyfriend’s inner perfection for even a moment? Derek didn’t participate in the rest of the conversation, too wrapped up in the shame that seemed to be his blanket of choice lately. He concentrated on Archie’s expressive face instead. Mesmerising!

Unfortunately Rhett didn’t play drums and Archie’s band, Arse, couldn’t afford to pay for his quality artwork.

“Do us all a favour and start dressing like a boy,” Archie told him.

“Kiss my arse.”

“You prettified Glam boys give me the shits. You ponce about looking like chicks then bloody whinge when poofter bashers kick your arse. What do you expect?”

“Why do you wear all of that,” Rhett pointed at Archie’s studded wrist band and the chains in his shirt, “then complain when the coppers follow you?”

“I like it.”

“I like this.”

Rhett wasn’t as soft as first appeared. Derek declared him the victor with a laugh. The lovely smile immediately turned toward him yet those electric blue eyes lingered on Archie who softly growled, “Eyes this way Angel.”

“Anything for you,” Derek quipped in reference to their first night together and the savage beast was soothed. He and Archie returned to the rest of the band and Derek noticed Glam look after them then turn a sadly confused gaze to the ground before continuing on his way. _That could be miserable, lonely me if I’d broken up with Archie._ Archie seemed oblivious to the hungrily reverent ways Rhett looked at him. _Would my sweetheart have noticed and gone off with that prettified Glam boy if I hadn’t been here?_ Derek wanted to hold Archie’s hand and assert his ownership but the day had already produced so many awful moments that he didn’t want to tempt fate. He walked closer to his sweetheart’s side while maintaining innocent distance between them. Once the van door closed behind them he invited Archie to sit on his lap and they made out for the entire drive home.

λ

Cheng and Wren climbed over the bench seat into the front so Derek and Archie could make up in relative privacy. The boyfriends whispered apologies and promises between kisses.

They hadn’t seen each other for weeks and this was probably their only chance to be together before school began again. It wouldn’t be the same after this. Today should have been another fantasy day, not a string of disasters and jealous bickering, so they murmured and laughed, touched and rubbed. They reached the moaning, grinding and utter-curses-to-clothing stage before Donk reached the Tanner house.

“Lock ‘em in an’ leave ‘em to it,” said Donk as he shut the engine off. “I’m not watchin’ that.”

“Me neither,” declared Wren with blatant distaste.

Derek didn’t care where they went only that he finally had Archie alone. “Can we?” he asked desperately.

“Can we what?”

“Anything, just, can we?” The air in the van was becoming hot and stuffy, like Derek’s pants.

“Only what we’ve done before. But slightly different.”

They chuckled against each other’s lips and began stripping off with one hand from each helping the other, working as a team to get naked from their waists down. Archie knelt over Derek so the bottom of his thighs rested on top of Derek's. They muttered and shuffled, mumbled and chuckled, adjusted angles of torsos and limbs until they pressed comfortably together and quietly brought each other off with their hands.

Derek was completely drained and desperately pumping out the last of Archie’s load when a loud, aggressive thump on the side of the van caused them to jump with fright. Their arms reflexively tightened around each other. Archie’s fingers strangled Derek’s cock but there was no blood left in it anyway. They were too breathless and afraid to make a sound.

“Shtop, stop fucking and mow this lawn!”

“There’s no-one in there you drunken fool!” Deborah scolded Archie’s father then continued loudly so ‘no-one’ would hear her clearly. “How many times have Cheng and Donald told you? Archie’s tutor has taken him to replace whatever silly triangle measuring thingies are broken in his math set. He can’t do that holiday homework without the right stuff.”

“Stupid fuckwit carn do anfing bloody useful. All-that bloody reading you and school-let-im do made ‘im uselesh.”

Deborah smoothly diverted his attention from the van. Derek helped get Archie sorted before worrying about his own clothing and appearance.

“You’re not useless, or stupid.” Derek whispered no louder than a breath and kissed Archie’s cheek. He knew how hard Archie worked around the house and at his job. Deborah bragged about her son’s efforts every time he left the room to wee. ‘I’m so pleased he has you for a boyfriend. You’re a good influence,’ she insisted. Derek doubted Deborah would think that now. They climbed out the van window farthest from the house and walked around the block to the back laneway as they talked.

“How are we going to get silly triangle thingies?” he asked quietly and Archie winked at him.

“From my locked cabinet in the tool shed. Mine are fine, mint condition since they’ve never been used. Mum’s not stupid either. She knows that whatever we’re doing, we’re not properly fucking.”

“How do you know?”

“She asked and I told her. I don’t lie to Mum.”

Derek stifled a laugh of disbelief.

“What?” Archie asked.

“I’m starting to wonder which one of us is the saint and which one the sinner.”

“I admired you for a long time before I fancied you. You work hard at school and treat people with respect even if they don’t deserve it. All those things the teachers said about you when they made you School Captain are true. You’re definitely the saint. Add to that you’re the second most gorgeous male on legs and I’m left wondering why the hell you travelled across the quadrangle to be near me.”

“Who’s first, I mean most gorgeous?” Derek’s thoughts flashed back to Rhett, the stunning artistic Glam boy who seemed maybe interested in Derek then became clearly rapt in Archie.

“Marty Feldman,” Archie said with a chortle but Derek didn’t get it. Archie pulled a face that meant he wouldn’t bother explaining the joke. “Give us a boost,” he suggested as they stood on the other side of the fence from the Tanner’s shed.

Derek checked the position of the window. He’s seen Archie get into higher windows than that without assistance. “You don’t need a boost.” That didn’t stop Derek honouring his request.

“I know. This could be the last time I get to feel you touching me up and I wanted to make the most of it.”

“You fiend!” Derek playfully slapped Archie’s bum as it disappeared through the window.

“Said you were the saint,” drifted out from the shed in muted amusement.

Derek was astonished at how quickly and quietly Archie found what he needed and climbed back over the fence. There was no surprise that he emerged without an extra smudge of dust or the teensiest cobweb to be seen. Derek’s been in that shed. He knew it was as meticulously maintained as the house and yard. He knew why.

They talked noisily about impersonal topics as they neared the front of the house. Derek swallowed his revulsion then offered his hand to the only person he was quite prepared to hate and introduced himself to the cock-cheese Mr Tanner because that’s the kind of person Derek’s parents raised him to be.

“Are yoorafag too?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Shnobby git.”

“Come through with Archie, Derek. You boys can use the table before I need to get supper ready.” Deborah behaved as if the monster that murdered her daughter seven years ago did not stand in front of her. Derek saw why Archie was determined to be brave on behalf of others. Beneath her calm demeanour Deborah was terrified of the man.

“You givim poofter sname, swy za poof.”

“Whereas Cyril’s a perfectly butch name,” Archie retorted and received a clip over the ear.

“Fuckwit.”

“Cock-cheese,” Archie said quietly so he would have the last word without being heard. “I’ll get the stupid trigonometry quiz.”

λ

Derek became increasingly frustrated with Archie’s increasing impatience. Donk took Cheng and Wren home after Archie used the protractor and ‘triangle thingies’ as ninja throwing blades. Derek was tempted to follow suit after he was threatened with a compass. He conceded defeat long before they were required to clear the table. His punk lover may be clever with words but where numbers were concerned he was thick as a plank.

“Donk used to let me copy off him because I let him copy from me in other subjects but the teachers figured out our system. We only have music and woodwork together now.”

“After the holidays we’ll go back to the start of your previous text book and start going through that. Once I see how your foundations lie we can begin scaffolding.”

“Are you still referring to math or…?” Archie’s knee deliberately touched Derek’s.

A drunken snore burred from the couch and Derek felt bold enough to link a finger around one of Archie’s below the table. “Possibly both,” he answered softly.

The kiss Archie bestowed was equally soft.

“Not here boys,” Deborah admonished gently as she added ice cubes to their warming drinks of water. She returned the tray to the tiny freezer compartment of the refrigerator and Derek noticed the majority of shelf space was now taken up by alcohol. The smaller quantities of food were also of poorer quality than the provisions stocked while Cyril the cock-cheese was in prison.

Derek gave Archie’s hand a squeeze. “Want some help with the lawn?”

Archie squeezed back. “Not right now thanks. Waking it up will be detrimental to our health.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Why don’t the two of you go for a walk? You can take those books back to the library before he finds them,” suggested Deborah.

“I’m not supposed to be here. If we’re seen…” Derek’s excuse dwindled under her silent scrutiny. “We could go to the Tedium Emporium on the other side of the station, which is where my parents think I’m spending the day.”

“Good. Off you go.”

λ

They discussed the books each recommended to the other; the elective subjects chosen for the next school year; common opinions on current films that neither will get to see either because parental permission has been denied or due to insufficient finances. They didn’t mention their romance or families. They didn’t stand close, hold hands, kiss or make googly eyes at each other—or at anyone else.

Archie wasn’t bored. Derek expected him to be. Jon subtly took the piss out of everything when Derek could convince him to tag along and even Andrew refused to come to the small gallery unless there was a display from one of his favourite artists. Unlike Andrew, Archie made no comment on composition, technique and such. His observations were purely emotional. The central artist currently under spotlight evoked the strongest responses. He hated one highly praised and glamorous piece because it was lifeless and soulless, but liked the artist’s first, immature pieces because he could feel what the artist felt. “You see where they started paying her because she became a shallow, pretentious tit.”

The curator told them to leave, allegedly because Archie’s appearance and volume disturbed other patrons. Derek pointed out on their way to a milk bar that those were the curator’s creations he’d been critiquing. “And you were probably right. Can I buy you a milkshake?”

“Vanilla please.” The incongruity of Archie’s manners amused Derek.

“You sure? I can splurge on strawberry or a malted?”

“I like vanilla,” Archie insisted then found a seat while Derek ordered.

When Derek brought their drinks to the table he found Archie staring sadly at a young couple sharing one milkshake with two straws and a baby between them. “It isn’t fair,” he murmured forlornly as Derek sat beside him.

“No, it isn’t.” Derek had never considered how being in love with another boy interfered with dreams of domesticity. Archie slid a hand under the table to secretly hold Derek’s. They watched the tiny family, sharing the pain of knowing that could never be them.

λ

He kissed his sweetheart goodnight and goodbye in the darkest shadows behind the house. They promised to maintain the casual friendship they’d enjoyed this evening without rousing suspicion at school. Neither wanted Cyril finding out and mutual self-preservation established an important equilibrium within their romance.

“Is it alright with you if I tell Jonathon we ran into each other at the gallery?” Derek asked. “His conniving mind allowed us to spend today together.”

“How will you explain being there when you were supposed to be enjoying an all-day snogfest? Or are you going to tell Steward about us?” The teasing caress of Archie’s lips tried to convince Derek to choose option two.

“Not yet. I visited the Tedium Emporium after having an argument with my sweetheart, which happened at least twice today so isn’t a complete fabrication.”

“We fight too often.”

Derek held him close so they embraced cheek to cheek. “I’m glad you agree. As long as we keep making up,” he used a lengthy kiss to conclude the sentence. “Once I leave school we won’t have to pretend. There’ll be less strain and we won’t argue as much. Then everything will be perfect and we’ll never doubt that we belong together. We love each other too much.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

They continued kissing wordlessly until Derek realised he’d have to run the entire way to the station.

λ

Jonathon’s reaction to the tale of Archie at the Tedium Emporium was typically droll. “Didn’t expect Mr Rowdy Pants to be interested in boring twaddle like that,” he said with an astonished pout. “You should bring him along every time you drag me somewhere dull. Watching the fuss he causes would seriously lower the yawn factor.”

Jonathon’s adventure didn’t provide the sort of entertainment he anticipated either. “The nudity was top quality, unfortunately so were the writing and acting. It was so emotionally compelling I forgot to ogle after the first fifteen minutes.”

Derek laughed then enquired after the name of the show and suggested they sneak off to watch it together before the holidays ended.

“Tonight was the final performance. You wouldn’t have liked it anyway my prudish friend,” Jonathon watched a group of youths skate by and added “not your cup of tea at all.”

September 1975

School returned.

The seating arrangements remained merged since only a minority from both parties sought change. Jonathon was as guardedly happy about this as Derek. Derek suspected Jon fancied Stephanie Moody more than he was prepared to let on. It saddened him that neither felt able to confide their affection to their long-term friends.

Derek and Archie avoided suspicion for the first few weeks of term by having no opportunity to be more than tutor and pupil. Cock-cheese watched them closely, looking for excuses to call Archie stupid and useless. Stephanie came to sessions at Derek’s house to throw another red herring at the feet of Snoopy Sue. Individuals from the Wild Wood knew which of their peers fancied whom and to what extreme. Not because none of them could keep a secret but because they were like a close-knit family rather than a group of school friends. So once Donk knew Derek was Archie’s boyfriend all the Wild Woodies knew whereas none of the Benchers had a clue.

“I don’t understand it,” Jonathon said to Derek one afternoon while they browsed through a music store. Derek looked at the items Jonathon considered worth purchasing. There were a lot of skeletons, mythical beasts and chubby cherubs on those album covers.

“Neither do I.”

Jonathon steered Derek away from the Bing Crosby display. “Some of us are allowed to listen to music produced since we were born, you pop culturally stunted being. I refer to that hodgepodge collective known as the Wild Wood. Look at our immediate circle: all males with similar ancestry, family structures, housing, income and what have you. Same church every wretched Sunday,” almost, there were Catholic and Protestants but that was only two variants between fourteen members, “similar academic abilities, same manner of clothing. Our Captains Bench is a catalogue of British bland. That lot are black, yellow, white, Hindu, Christian, heathen, bent, straight and undecided, from solid homes and broken, Kennelly-level imbecile through to Tanner evil genius, punk, hippie, Goth, that normal person who recently fell in—and there’s only ten of them! Why, my friend of many years, why is our lot of clones not as genuinely communicative with each other as that randomly gathered rabble?”

“I noticed that too. It doesn’t really make sense does it? Are you asking this because I can’t tell you who I’m with?”

Jonathon pondered that possibility. “Not entirely. Your reasons make perfect sense since I’d run you both up the flagpole for failing to comply with my plans for world domination. Bwah-hah-hah!”

Derek smiled at this archetypical Bond villain impersonation. “It’s not because I don’t trust you.”

Jon stopped flipping through albums by The Who to look Derek in the eye. “I know. Do you know how I know?”

“No.”

“Since term began you only refer to ‘Sweetheart’ when the others aren’t around. In front of them it’s just tutoring and charity cases. Both highly commendable pursuits as well as being effective screens, you are a genius. Is it Stephanie?”

“No. Nice try.”

“Her marks haven’t improved as dramatically as expected after all your help, people are beginning to suspect. By people I mean me. I don’t speculate on your love life with anyone but you.”

“Which I appreciate immensely,” Derek said earnestly. “The poor girl’s a complete ditz. If Tanner couldn’t teach her to read what chance do I have? He helped teach his Mum. Oh, don’t…”

“Do you think I’m stupid enough to consider gossiping about Weazl’s maternal figure after what happened to his former friend last year? I like my skin where it is thank you very much. Please tell me it isn’t Weazl’s mum. Assure me the pair of you didn’t fall in love and begin a clandestine romance while you were playing guardian angel. Assure me damn you!” Jon grasped Derek’s shoulders as he pleaded with comic exaggeration.

“Well I am rather fond of Deborah,” Derek replied casually and couldn’t help chuckling afterward.

“We should visit the undertakers next because he is going to kill you for saying that, even if you aren’t serious. Not that he will find out from me since I have no wish to die alongside you.”

Derek noticed similarities between his closest friend and his sweetheart, such as their musical preferences, fixation with David Attenborough and opinions of that Ursula Le Guin book Archie had Derek read before the holidays. Derek didn’t like the fantasy twaddle, whereas Jon read it twice then enjoyed an animated discussion with Cheng, ‘Weazl’ and Claudia about the theme of ‘confronting the potential darkness within one’s soul’. Now Stephanie and Kennelly were trying to read it. Jonathon was almost a straight, middle income, mainstream, less profane, non-criminal model of Derek’s boyfriend. With light brown hair that had the habit of falling across his left eye in such a way that tempted Derek to flick it aside with one finger, like now. Jon shook his head so more hair covered his face, and grinned triumphantly at Derek’s ‘gr’ of frustration. This routine had fallen into disuse since the bike incident as it seemed inappropriately intimate, yet it was a longstanding habit that Derek found difficult to break. Jonathon was the type of person Archie might be if he wasn’t the son of cock-cheese. Sometimes Derek wondered if he would have fallen for his friend if Jon had been gay, which made him uncomfortable for reasons so confusing that Derek chose to ignore them.

They went back to Jonathon’s where he tried to wean Derek off old people music and onto modern rock with little success, none in fact. “Offal,” was Derek’s opinion of the local band Jon had taken a fancy to.

“I shan’t bother introducing Ritchie Blackmore’s _Rainbow_ into your musical diet then,” Jonathon grumbled and replaced racket-on-a-record with evening radio. “Now, which universities are we applying for? I refuse to share accommodation with you so don’t ask.”

“Why not?” Derek pretended to be devastated though he was actually relieved. Leaving Jon behind would be as traumatic as being rejected by him for being homosexual. Although he didn’t appear to have any problem with Derek being friends with Tanner that would change drastically if he discovered Derek hoped to insert his penis into Archie’s mouth and bottom, hopefully every night for the entirety of their adult life.

“You’re a slob Landon, a manipulative slob at that. Let Claire be your slave.”

“Cannot argue against logic like that. Wrong again though Jonathon, not Claire. Nice try.”

October 1975

Schoolyard conversation somehow turned to theology by the time Derek and other members of the Captains Bench returned from the kiosk. Jonathon sat amid the Wild Wood as though he’d always belonged there although he wasn’t as confident around Archie as with the others. Would he find it equally difficult to socialise with Claire or Dawn once he knew they were lesbians? How would he talk to Derek?

“…religion, as a term, should be obsolete,” Jon was saying as he made room on the lower log for Derek.

“Substituting the word bigotry would be more accurate,” suggested Archie.

“Not entirely,” Jon said without ridicule. “Religion is one of many banners that bigots gather behind. One’s beliefs, or faith if you will, should be described in terms of perspective.”

“And what’s your perspective Steward?” Archie asked with a quirk to his lips that combined teasing with genuine curiosity and respect. Derek loved this aspect of his boyfriend and wished he could sit beside him—with an arm around him.

“Evolving,” Jonathon replied with an honest and somewhat shy smile.

“Jesus Steward,” grumbled Donk. “You’ll start a cult crapping on like that! Weazl here’d be first to join since he’s a gullible, trusting twat. Then I’d have to as well to keep him out of trouble.” Donk’s teasing made Archie grin. Their conspiratorial expressions reminded Derek of the eldest and youngest Steward siblings hatching a plan against their middle brother. He mentioned it to Jon later.

“Those two certainly seem closer than most. Half-brothers?” Jonathon surmised. “Could explain why otherwise homophobic Kennelly’s in a band famous for singing about boy-love.”

Derek snorted. “They’re hardly a band, let alone famous.”

“Not among big-band fans like yourself. Punk may not last long Derek but it intends to die kicking, screaming, and leaving behind an almighty stench. So do I—but without the stench.”

Jonathon’s evolving perspective caused problems for Derek. The rebellious streak that led Derek and Andrew to befriend the new boy transferred from boarding school in First Form increased with his confidence. Sardonic comments once privately murmured to Derek or Andrew were now delivered with aplomb for all to hear. Jonathon pushed for the Student Council and Parent’s Associations to abolish after-school detentions since so many pupils had responsibilities outside school where he normally raised an issue then left the rest to Derek. A distinct lack of handball skills stopped Jon accepting invitations to play with the Wild Wood last semester. He who felt too self-conscious to cheer players on as an observer now laughed at his clumsiness on the court and made elaborate bows when Claudia, Stephanie, Donk or Archie applauded his gaffs. Derek watched Jon when it wasn’t safe to watch Archie and sometimes added a smart comment to the applause. The Wild Woodies didn’t begrudge Derek’s interjections, while others from the Captains Bench were bombarded with insults for calling attention to Jonathon’s ineptitude. This incongruity could be due to Derek’s school captaincy but most probably a) they knew Jon was Derek’s friend, first and foremost; b) Archie commanded them not to pick on his boyfriend; or c) all of the above.

Derek wished Archie would join a game, thus providing ample opportunities for Derek to innocently ogle his sexy bum...instead of Jonathon’s.

λ

Ordinary accidental contact beneath the desk became startlingly arousing. Derek concentrated on not reacting and assured himself it was merely an aftereffect of the intimacies shared with Archie during the summer. _Archie is my boyfriend. Jonathon is my friend-who-is-male._ This nonsensical attraction to Jonathon would stop once Derek and Archie resumed their private, physical relationship.

The fact that Andrew and Nigel’s limbs could touch Derek in the same way without making his cock crow was entirely irrelevant.

6 November 1975

“I can’t concentrate on this torture with an audience!” Archie exclaimed loudly during the usual Thursday tutorial at Derek’s house.

Stephanie retaliated with equal irritation. “Fine! I’ll sit outside the door like Nigel-no-mates until Landon can get around to helping **me**!”

Derek thought she deserved an acting award as he closed his bedroom door behind her. _Alone at last!_ “I’ve missed you Sweetheart. Seeing you at school and like this isn’t enough.”

He and Archie kissed for the first time since the holidays. There was nothing cautious or seductive about it, simply lust in its purest form. They soon had their clothes open and shifted awkwardly around—nothing removed in case of interruption—and were vigorously dry humping, toppling over the threshold into orgasmic oblivion with stifled grunts and groans when they heard Sue ask Stephanie:

“Why is Derek’s door closed?”

“Christ!” Derek swore softly into his pillow as he climaxed against Archie’s groin. “Oah—Christ.”

“Too many distractions,” Stephanie replied waspishly.

“He isn’t allowed to have his door closed, even when he’s alone. None of us are.”

“Yes. Oh-oh yes!” Archie murmured against Derek’s neck as his fluid joined Derek’s mess. Derek’s mouth caught Archie’s before he could suck or bite a mark into Derek’s skin. Their hands busily cleaned up while lips and tongues wrestled with decreasing urgency.

“Sure thing little girl, open the door and explain to Weazl why he has to let your family gawp at him like some freak show freak. Step up and see the boy too stupid to draw an equality triangle without help. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“Not me. What’s an equality triangle? Is that what the pink triangle on his school bag means? Or did you mean equilateral triangle? Can you maybe let Weazl know for next time? Those are just the rules.”

“Will do.”

They marvelled over their lucky escape as they fixed their clothes and Derek’s bed.

“From now on I’m driving you home.” Derek refused to be swayed on this. They needed to be alone, frequently.

“We came pretty close to doing it today,” Archie whispered.

“I know.”

“Can you get out of church this week? Cock-cheese goes to a drug den during church hours…” His whisper dwindled into silence.

Derek stroked sweat-loosened hair out of Archie’s climax-brightened eyes. “Are you saying you’re ready?” _God yes please, next weekend’s fine by me._

“There’s somewhere we need to go, some friends I think we should talk to first. Will you come with me on Sunday?”

“Anything you want.” Derek held Archie’s hand but made no move to kiss him because his noisy other half was suddenly shy. _Maybe Archie’s not so ready after all_. Derek would rather wait and do this properly than scare his sweetheart away. “If you like we’ll call this tutorial quits and I’ll take you and Stephanie home now?”

“Yeah please. Sorry Angel.”

“It’s alright Sweetheart. I want our first time to be special too, perfect, like you.”

“I love you.”

Now Derek kissed him. A tiny tear escaped as Derek questioned why he found it easy to think, feel and show but still impossible to say.

9 November 1975

Derek lied to his family before driving to the Tanners and tried lying to Deborah while Archie did whatever Archie did to get ready. “Archie asked to come to Mass with me today.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence Derek. Just because I read at a child’s level doesn’t mean I think at one. I know where my son’s taking you and why. I’m not happy about the why. He’s too young. You both are.”

_Holy cow, is there anything he doesn’t tell her?_ “We’re not—not today. I don’t know where we’re going or why, not exactly.”

“You tell him you’re going to live together after school.”

“Yes Ma’am, I mean it.”

“You’re too young for this, both of you. What’s going on is already too much. He’s not as mature as he thinks he is. Promise me that if my son says no you will respect that and not try to twist it into a yes.”

“I—uh—I promise I’ll respect him?” Derek felt like he’d become caught in a television program featuring a gun-bearing hillbilly American asking a boy’s intentions towards his daughter. Those scenes were frightening rather than amusing now.

“I didn’t expect Archie to feel like this so soon. Hurt him and I will destroy you, is that understood?” Deborah’s soft, cool voice had no sharp edges. This was no idle threat. Derek managed to stem his ripening anger, but only just.

“As long as he lives here he’ll get hurt and as long as you live here he’ll live here.”

“Stop it, the pair of you,” Archie said wearily from behind them.

Derek smiled at the sight of him. “You’ve had a haircut.” It was still long enough to force into ridiculous shapes but there was no colour. It was parted to one side and carefully moulded to make the best use of his natural curl. “Gorgeous,” Derek said breathily.

“Shut up.” Archie had that same self-conscious and shyly pleased expression Derek first saw in Cheng’s garage.

“I wish I could marry you,” Derek said sincerely.

Deborah sniffed back a sudden sob and pushed them out the door.

“That was…”

“Horribly embarrassing?” Archie suggested.

“Quite.”

“Hold onto your halo Angel, it’s about to get worse.”

λ

Derek parked the car as instructed and they walked to “a Bed and Breakfast? I thought we weren’t taking this step yet.” Not that Derek would say no if Archie changed his mind.

“We’re not. I used to work here. Not **work** , work…”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“That’s probably a good thing.” The door closed behind them and Archie took hold of Derek’s hand. “It’s okay, we can in here. No-one at The Peacock will turn our love into something ugly.”

Derek trusted him. “I love the way you can talk so freely.”

“You’re going to regret that soon enough,” a man slightly younger than Derek’s father said and approached the young couple with a smile. “Hey Weazl man, you’re looking tasty for gaol bait.”

“Thanks Ferdinand. This is Angel.”

“Angel? This way boys.” Ferdinand led them through a door-less archway to a room with comfortable chairs surrounded by bookshelves and cupboards. A water jug and glasses sat on a side table. “Any questions you need answered, ask them. Don’t fret about them being too stupid, awkward or unimportant. None of us is born knowing what to do or how to do it and some mistakes can have dire consequences, quite often painful ones. You brought him here so I’m guessing you’ve made up your mind?” Ferdinand addressed this last to Archie as he filled three glasses. Derek watched Archie answer with a nervous nod.

“I know I want it to be with him. I want to be prepared for when we’re ready.” He returned Derek’s gaze. “I don’t want to stuff this up.”

Derek pressed his hand. “Me either.”

“Okay young Weazl. Where would you like to begin?”

Archie asked a lot of questions, mostly about things Derek never thought of.

“How have you even heard of that?” Derek asked.

“Not all poofs are into big bands or disco, Angel. Some come to my gigs and want to talk about stuff. They think I know everything just because I’m out. The more blokes I talk to the less I realise I know.” Archie asked Ferdinand for some biscuits then continued talking to Derek while the older man fetched a packet from the cupboard. “The bigger my audience gets, the greater my responsibility. That’s one of the reasons we give out free cock-socks with tickets. No matter which way a fella swings his bat it’s going to need protection.”

“You’re amazing.”

“So are you.”

So was Archie’s smile.

Derek found the courage to ask what he feared was a stupid question. He was still nervous, despite the casually matter-of-fact discussion so far. “There’s no way for us to, urm, there isn’t a, um, position that lets us um together at the same time, I mean apart from orally, is there?”

“No there isn’t a way for two men to ‘properly’ fuck each other at the same time.”

“Oh.”

“The best advice I can give is be patient with yourself and each other because fantastic, ideal sex does not happen first time round. You have to learn your body’s rhythms and responses and your partner’s, and that can take a lot of time. Most importantly if something isn’t feeling right for one you, stop.” Ferdinand offered the packet of biscuits again and closed it when both boys declined. Archie’d eaten all the whole ones. “The most difficult thing for young people to understand about love and sex is that ‘no’ is a rejection of the act, not the person. Feeling comfortable enough to say it and giving your partner the freedom to say no empowers you both.”

Derek felt overwhelmed by the physical and emotional complexities involved. No wonder the school corridors were constantly haunted by crying girls. “I don’t think I’m as ready as I thought,” he confessed to Archie. Archie smiled and Ferdinand spoke.

“It’s always simpler inside your head. That never changes, unfortunately.”

“Can I ask you something in private? Please?” Derek asked Ferdinand.

“Weazl, nick off and grab a handful of free samples. Vincent’s in. He’s done wonders with the Memorial Counter since you were here last.”

Derek stood up with Archie. “See you soon,” he whispered and gave him a gentle kiss. Archie kissed him back then sauntered off through the archway.

“So Angel, what did you want to know?” Ferdinand asked in his friendly open manner.

“I only have a couple of really lame questions. They’re not about sex.” Derek could hardly believe he said that word to this man without getting embarrassed.

“Hit me.”

“Arch…” Derek realised there might be a reason Archie hadn’t used their true names in front of Ferdinand but he couldn’t bring himself to say Weazl. “He’s always trying to make this easy for me. I want to say thank you. Not just in words but with a gift, a romantic gift. What can I give him that won’t make him feel like a girl?”

Ferdinand chuckled. “Your Weazl’s not a roses and chocolates kind of guy, true, but food is always good. Take him out somewhere…”

“No-o-o no, no-no no.”

“You’re not out?” Ferdinand appeared shocked for the first time today. “All those fans parading about in the open and he chooses from the closet? I don’t get why that boy only does things the hard way. Perhaps you should ask Vincent what Weazl would prefer. He knows your boy better than the rest of us.”

Ferdinand led Derek behind the lounge and reception area to a small room that was rather like the gift shop at the Tedium Emporium. A dapper man in his sixties appeared to be answering similar questions for Archie.

“…but he’s posh like you, almost. No-one’s as posh as you, Vincent.” Derek watched them rearrange stock for maximum visual impact. “We don’t like the same stuff and I can’t afford to buy him anything.”

“I’m sure you liberate flowers from neighbourhood gardens to give to your mother.” Archie’s cheeky grin confirmed Vincent’s suspicions. “When you become serious about any young man you should share the things you are interested in: books; music; people; art. Bring him to your rehearsals. Let him know how your mind is filled with more than fluff and James Dean fantasies.”

“We do all that. I want to do something big.”

“Big, nonsense,” Vincent muttered under his breath as though it was a mild profanity. “Did you learn nothing from poor Robert’s mistakes, or mine? If all you have to offer is your time, then give him that. Time is irreplaceable—and so are you.”

Derek understood why The Peacock was so important to Archie. It felt like a haven of calm friendship and knowledge. Derek quietly stood behind his boyfriend and put both arms around him. “Thank you for bringing me here Sweetheart.” His grateful kiss to Archie’s cheek became more serious as Archie turned into it and captured his lips.

“You’re welcome.”

Vincent patted Archie’s shoulder with approval before turning away with a sigh. “Well done young man.”

“We ready to go?” Archie asked Derek.

“We are.” So they went.

10 November 1975

Derek stared blankly at Archie’s math homework during their Monday tutorial at the Tanner house and asked why Archie hadn’t taken him to The Peacock before yesterday. They could have played pinball in the games room, or numerous other things.

“Pinball yes, other things no. Certain displays of affection are forbidden except on movie or disco nights and no-one younger than twenty-one is allowed upstairs, not even to clean. Plus Sunday’s the only day we won’t run into anyone you know. You’re not the only church-going poofter Derek and we aren’t the only gay boys at school.”

“There are others like us, at our school? How many? Have you been out with them?”

“I may have snogged a couple,” Archie admitted and a scowl began between his brows.

“Who?”

“If I tell you who they are then, by rights, I get to tell them about you.” Archie’s scowl deepened as Derek straightened in alarm. “And you don’t want that. I thought you were over this ‘being homo is wrong’ bullshit. I wouldn’t bloody take you there if I’d known you weren’t serious.”

“I am serious Sweetheart. I know that what I feel for you isn’t wrong, it’s wonderful.” He tried touching Archie’s face with affection and was sharply rebuked.

“Is it? Maybe it’s not being a poof you’re ashamed of, just being one with me. Fuck off home Derek.”

Derek grabbed his jacket from the kitchen chair. “I’m not ashamed of being your boyfriend Archie, but I do get fed up with your attitude! You come on strong and sexy then make me feel like I’m taking advantage for trying to show how much I care for you. I asked about those other boys because I was surprised and curious to learn we might pass them every day, not because I want to ask one of them out instead. I want to be with you.”

“Prove it. Don’t talk to me again until you find something we can do that doesn’t involve this math shit, my bedroom or your cock in my mouth.”

“You first!”

“I have thank you Derek, several times.” Archie counted off examples on his fingers. “I invited you to my friend’s house, invited you to come with me and my friends out of town—where you almost went off with some other boy in front of me!—then the Peacockyesterday. You spend almost as many afternoons at my house as your own. I take you to places that are important to me or where people who are important to me can see you’re my boyfriend. You only take me places where you know no-one will see us together and when we’re there all we do is get each other off. I can get in some guy’s car and get **paid** to do that Derek. This is supposed to be different, remember?”

Derek’s eyes became hot. His fingertips and toes went numb. “It **is** different. You said yourself it’s scary at the beginning, not knowing who to trust and you’re so far ahead of me. Give me time to catch up. I’ll try, please.” Derek panicked when Archie looked away. “I’m doing everything I can to be your boyfriend but I don’t know how! I never thought about what would happen after I kissed you because I didn’t think you’d be interested. Everything takes me by surprise, nothing goes as planned, and we spend half the time we’re together yelling at each other. Am I doing **anything** right or should I just give up now?”

A hand reached out for his and brought him close enough to sit next to Archie, although Archie didn’t look at him. The sharp inflection of Archie’s voice was aimed inward rather than at Derek. “I’ve asked myself that same question several times a day, since I was old enough to think. The first and worst thing you did wrong is pick me.”

“That’s the only thing I know I’ve done right so far.” Derek kept hold of Archie’s hand and he turned to kiss his sweetheart’s neck then whisper against a cheek. “You’re inspirational.” Shy, tender kisses eventually persuaded Archie to turn his way and meet his lips. They each placed a palm against the other’s cheek to feel the external motion of their kiss. It was beautiful, thrilling. Derek kept his hands on Archie’s face once they’d stopped. “I promise I’ll find something else for us to do.”

“Thank you.”

11 - 12 November 1975

Derek had a dream or two about Jonathon, the kind that should only feature Archie, his gay boyfriend; never Jonathon, Derek’s straight friend-who-is-male.

During chemistry he daydreamed about holding Jon’s hand beneath the bench. Jonathon interrupted the daydream to whisper a derogatory comment about their teacher and Derek developed a hard on from the tickling effects of Jon’s breath against his skin. _No! No! No!_

“Are you alright there?” Jonathon asked worriedly as Derek squirmed and shivered away.

_No! No! No!_ “Excessive flatulence, connect me to the Bunsen burner and all will be well.”

Jonathon grimaced then chuckled. Derek thanked God Jon wasn’t gay because that remark would scare off any potential suitor.

Whenever an inappropriate thought of Jonathon taunted him, Derek replaced it with one of Archie. He knew what Archie’s lips felt like, how he tasted, how he sounded, moved, breathed, snored, cooked, laughed, fought, and more. Derek loved Archie. These mixed up feelings for Jonathon weren’t real. They could never be real because Jonathon would never love Derek the way Archie did.

_Archie, Archie, Archie_

Jonathon’s hair fell over his eye during English. _Grey-green eyes, have your irises always been so alluring?_ Derek turned away, refusing to allow the familiar routine to lure him in. He wrote ‘Derek loves Archie’ along the top margin with his finger so no-one saw and only Derek knew it was there. He resolved to do this on every new page of every book in every lesson to remind him of his true love and eradicate all traces of this confusion over Jonathon.

_We’re friends. School days mean I have to spend more time with Jon than Archie because our timetables say so. It makes me muddled because I want to be with Archie all the time. I love Archie as a boyfriend, and Jon as a friend. Got that brain, penis, whichever one of you does the thinking these days?_

“Do you mind if I give the indoor tennis a miss for the next few weeks?” Derek quietly asked Jonathon as they returned books and pens to bags.

“Not at all, although, do you mind if we continue telling our parents that’s what we’re doing on Thursday evenings?” Jonathon asked in return.

“Why?” _Is Veronica your girlfriend after all?_ Derek didn’t like the bitterness underlying that second question and avoided asking it.

“It saves seeking parental permission for motorcycle lessons,” Jonathon explained with a shrug. “Would you like to come? My friend Scott lets Veronica have a go, so you can bring your girlfriend…no?”

No doubt this was the sort of thing Archie had in mind the other day. “I can’t.” Derek said it as much to Archie as Jonathon. He wished he could. Jonathon sensed his disappointment.

“Never mind old chap, the invitation remains open.” His smile was slightly restrained but Derek didn’t question why because thanks to Jonathon, Derek found a way to keep his boyfriend happy.

13 November 1975

Derek suggested giving Archie driving lessons during the times he normally played indoor tennis with Jonathon, thus ensuring he remained faithful in thought as well as deed. Archie gleefully accepted—and almost managed to get them killed his first time behind the wheel.

“I wasn’t that bad!”

“You nearly ran up the back of a bus.”

“I figured out which one was the brake.”

“It shouldn’t have been an issue considering I was screaming ‘left foot, left, left, LEFT!’ Instead of braking you accelerated and swung into that hedge.”

“I only heard left, you were screaming like a bloody woman. I braked before we hit the hedge.”

“We? You, **you** hit the hedge. How am I going to explain the damage?”

“You could try telling the truth for once.”

Derek was struck by that statement. Had he really become so dishonest? Considering he and Jonathon habitually lied about where they went, who they were with, and what they did, Derek had to say yes.

“I don’t want to get you into trouble.” _It’s one half of the truth, so that counts as being honest. Doesn’t it?_ Archie took the excuse at face value and Derek felt like a cad.

14 November 1975

Derek made sure to be last out of maths. Archie had a lesson in this room after lunch so Derek wrote ‘Hello Sweetheart’ in letters large enough to fill the blackboard. Archie was so impressed that he directed Derek to a secluded spot after school and they spent the scheduled tutorial time making out in the car. Archie straddled Derek’s lap in the driver’s seat and told Derek how much he loved him. The way Archie moved on top of him as their tongues wrestled made Derek wish they were naked and that his glove box was full of condoms because Archie refused to fuck without one. Despite Derek’s subtle urging he was reluctant to fuck, carload of condoms or no. Derek was becoming desperate for it and tried again.

“We’re going to anyway, why not now?”

“We need time and privacy, to explore and enjoy, and avoid a disgusting and humiliating mess, that’s why. Whereas this” Archie emphasized his various points with exaggerated movements and bold eyes, “we can do anytime, anywhere. Don’t you **love** doing this?”

“God yes,” Derek admitted with a hormonal groan then came in his pants while making a love bite on Archie’s shoulder, where nobody could see.

15 – 16 November 1975

Everyone in Archie’s class had a theory about who wrote the Sweetheart message and for whom. The entire Wild Wood and Captains Bench joined the speculations. Derek was afraid to interact with his boyfriend at school and sat as far from him as possible. Archie gloated over the fuss with cheeky, self-satisfied smiles when they were alone. Derek felt bold enough to banter about future public displays. Archie’s smile broadened with each increasingly preposterous idea until they laughed uncontrollably. _This is how it’ll be once we’re away from here. Completely free, no arguments, perfect._

17 November 1975

Derek and Jon were head-down in a chemistry-lab drawer in search of crucible lids without cracks. The rest of the class were already following the procedure outlined on the blackboard.

“Isn’t ‘Sweetheart’ the name of your girlfriend, Derek?” Jonathon asked with sly subtlety.

“If only I **had** thought of doing that. I’d be receiving romantic rewards at recess instead of talking to you,” Derek replied then triumphantly fit a lid to their vessel. “Aha!”

Jonathon laughed and said no more about the mysterious chalk message but his silence came too late. Derek would never publicly express love for Archie again.

18 November – 8 December 1975

Late autumn storms made it necessary for Derek to drive Stephanie and Archie home after each tutorial session. Stephanie was a chaperone of sorts, a distraction to the casual observer who naturally focused on her shaved head, the dog collar around her neck, and her ability to curl her lip with an added touch of ‘I’m ready to bite your face off’ which ensured trespassers kept their distance. Hence Derek’s family remained oblivious to the small, reflexive touches, expressions and gestures of affection between the boys. Months without detection or suspicion made Derek cocky and possessive. He’d find some remote car park or patch of road after taking Stephanie home and made out with his boyfriend in the back of the station wagon under storm darkened skies with wind and rain pummelling the vehicle, urging them to go a little further, move more frantically each time. Sometimes Derek sucked Archie’s cock while Archie pulled Derek’s. Sometimes the roles were reversed. Sometimes they sucked together. Neither swallowed effectively but Archie tried.

“You don’t have to Sweetheart,” Derek assured him. It felt fantastic when he did but Derek preferred to see cum on Archie’s skin than glossing his lips.

“It’ll be less messy, once I get it right.”

Derek laughed gently and Archie told him to shut up. Derek loved him and hoped this kiss told him so.

November became December by the time they found the pattern they were happiest with. They touched and sucked each other’s cocks while Derek fingered Archie’s arse. God he felt incredible, so snug, hot, and responsive. They knew where their physical relationship was headed and planned to reach that goal on Christmas Eve. They didn’t know where or how they’d find the opportunity but consistently agreed that was what they both wanted.

Derek ensured the memory of each session lingered until the next one. Although they hadn’t fought since ‘Hello Sweetheart’ Derek hadn’t completely forgotten the effect his boyfriend had on Rhett the Pretty Glam Poster Boy, or the wink that caused it. Arse fangirls flirted with Archie in the school corridors, knowing he was gay. The ridiculousness of it didn’t stop Derek getting jealous. He wanted Archie’s mind on him all the time. His attention, love and body were Derek’s exclusive property and outside of school Derek made sure he remembered that.

9 December 1975

Derek didn’t realise how dramatically his behaviour had changed, particularly at school until Jonathon loitered a full minute after the bell at the conclusion of lunch break.

“You need to watch yourself,” Jonathon warned. “Your boastful masculine strut ruffles feathers on the cock of the other walk.” He tilted his head at enough of an angle to indicate Wild Wood stragglers while appearing to have a random thought. Every girl from the group was deep in conference with Archie. “ **He** knows you’re laying one of his hens if not which one and it’s best not to anger the king of the fairies. Nigel and Drew might think you’re the Queen’s tits strutting about but I believe you’re becoming a twat.”

Jonathon obviously wasn’t the only one. Glances and gestures in Derek’s direction were accompanied by brusque nods or shakes of a head and followed by scowls or sharp words, giving credence to Jonathon’s words.

“I haven’t been thinking straight.” Derek knew Jonathon wouldn’t understand the profound truth behind that statement. “Jon, this is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. I’m amazed, relieved, and absolutely ecstatic. So many times this could have blown up in my face yet we’re still together. I can’t believe how lucky I am and it’s making me a little crazy.” Derek said it loud enough for both intended audiences to hear. Archie gave the girls a smirk that said ‘see?’ and only Dawn remained noticeably sceptical.

“You don’t need to gloat about it in front of people who aren’t so lucky.” Jonathon’s reprimand sounded unfinished yet he left it there. Derek’s secrets were weakening their friendship. He didn’t want to lose it.

“I don’t like certain aspects of this situation either Jon but they’re necessary. You’ll know everything before we get to university, whatever happens. You’re my truest friend. That makes us better than brothers so trust me, please?”

“I wish we could be more like them.”

“I think they’re social network is so strong because their home lives suck.”

“Everyone wants to belong,” Jonathon replied enigmatically.

“You belong with me. Not like that,” Derek amended with a stricken expression.

Jonathon laughed. “You’re not my type,” he said then bumped his shoulder against Derek’s as they grinned at each other.

11 December 1975

Derek checked Archie’s revision, grinning at the margins filled with skulls and zombie faces attached to speech bubbles containing phrases such as ‘I hate this shite’, ‘if you have a square root you’re doing it wrong’ or ‘don’t SINE yo name here COS I TAN yo hide’. He stopped grinning when he found a love heart, a thick **red** love heart amid the blue, black and pencil graffiti. The shape was filled with thick, black precise letters that had beentraced over so many times their message pressed deeply through to the next page without tearing the original.

**_I LOVE DEREK LANDON_ **

“You stupid…! Have you been writing this in every book you submit for marking?”

“That’s last year’s book dropkick!” Archie poked him in the back and pointed to the bottom of the page. “See the date on the teacher’s comment? This was before my broken leg. I told you half the teachers knew I fancied you.” He stood too close to appear casual if someone saw into Derek’s room. Derek should have been telling him to back off instead of willing him closer.

“So you don’t write stuff like that anymore?” Derek tore the foolishness from the book and put it in his wallet. He couldn’t let anyone else see it but didn’t want to throw it away.

“Of course not, now it’s: Head Boy fingers my arse and suck-”

Derek backhanded him across the mouth.

His panicked response had the desired effect of silencing the loudmouth, with undesirable side effects of narrowed glare, book and bag roughly snatched up and his loved one heading for the door. Derek reached for him. Archie tried shrugging him off, then turned on him and used what his friends called the Arse-Weazl Voice. It was quiet, cold and the most menacing thing Derek had ever heard.

“I get slapped about enough at home thank you Landon. Now get your hand off me before I strike back and make you taste your own blood.” Archie wasn’t exaggerating.

Derek complied. “I didn’t mean it. I won’t do it again. Sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he apologised quietly.

“Me too.”

He left and Derek stood in silent denial. _No, it can’t be over. Not just like that. We fight, we make up; we don’t just stop being together. It can’t just suddenly_ stop _. It can’t._

Derek phoned the Tanner house. Cock-cheese answered so Derek left a message for Archie not to miss tomorrow’s tutorial session. There wasn’t one but he hoped Archie would take the hint. Cyril grunted and disconnected the call before Derek could request a confirmation call-back.

He returned to his room feeling lost. He wrote a letter of love and apology, pleading for forgiveness and another chance. He didn’t sign it, not even with the nickname Angel in case someone else found it. He drove to Cheng’s and asked him to sneak it into Archie’s schoolbag.

“Archie can go for weeks without opening that thing,” said Cheng. “But I’ll give it to him—after I have a little read.” With a teasing chuckle, Cheng tried to get it out of Derek’s reach by stretching his arm. Like the rest of Cheng, his arm was shorter than Derek’s and the note’s author soon snatched it back. “I’ll give it to him without reading it, serious. So what happened this time, eh? You two are like _The Honeymooners_ and ‘one of these days Alice’ he’s going to go POW, right in your kisser.”

Derek was surprised he hadn’t already done it.

12 December 1975

The quadrangle seating arrangements returned to their original positions overnight. _Guess that’s that then_ …

“Who did this?” Jonathon’s fury took the Captains Bench by surprise. “Was it you lot?” he turned on his friends. “Or was it them?”

“Does it matter?” asked Nigel. “We’re finally free of the rabble.” He lounged back with a smile.

Jonathon dragged an empty bench toward the Wild Wood. The metal supports made a dreadful noise against the bitumen. The Captains Bench stared in disbelief at this display and a Wild Wood honour guard impeded his progress. “Do you mind?” he politely asked Claire and Cheng.

“Your lot aren’t welcome here. Fuck off to where you belong.” Claire gestured in Derek’s direction with her chin as Cheng shoved Jon’s shoulder.

“How did you gain the privilege to decide where **_I_** sit?” Jonathon’s defiance attracted attention from wider spheres.

“Let him through. If he’s game enough to sit with us, he belongs.” Archie didn’t look up from the pack of cards he was playing with as he issued this command. His crew obediently stood down. Donk left Archie’s side to step forward.

“Well played Jon,” Donk said with a proud slap on Jonathon’s back. Gathered spectators drifted away in confused disappointment when he helped Jonathon move the bench instead of punching him. Claudia grinned as she sat beside Jonathon and offered him a lollipop from her bag. Stephanie gave his ankle a friendly kick and winked as she sat across from him.

“Holy Sacrilege,” Nigel exclaimed softly, leaning forward to rest both forearms on his knees. “Those wicked wenches have brainwashed Jonathon!”

Andrew grasped Derek’s arm and shook him melodramatically. “Do something Mr School Captain. They stole your Jon!”

They didn’t realise Derek had been issued a challenge. If he crossed the quad to sit with Archie, he belonged. If not, then it was Goodnight Sweetheart. He began to make his way over and this time the big guns formed a blockade. Dawn didn’t blindly follow orders and Kennelly’s reputation as a bully-beater was well earned. Derek had to risk death-by-Donk to prove he loved Archie. “I’d like to sit with my friend.”

He saw Jonathon relax and understood how brave his friend had been to take the frightening path because it was the correct one, making something simple into something profound. Derek followed Jonathon’s courageous example and asked his boyfriend directly. “May I join him?”

Archie shrugged and looked away. Donk and Dawn stepped aside with sneering reluctance. Only Jon acknowledged Derek or sat anywhere near him. The others made it clear that Derek was there at the whim of their leader. One mistake and he’d be fondue, friend of Jon’s or not.

“I can’t go back to beige Derek,” Jonathon insisted at the start of lunch. “I won’t.”

“You have got the biggest balls, gorilla gonads.” Derek used both hands to describe the dimensions of a football in the air. “Huge! I should have accompanied you from the start.”

“You’re still not my type. Too big-band black and white, not enough colour. You’re the only person besides my Grandmother who considers Buddy Holly a bad influence. It must kill you that the Stones are still rolling.”

Derek laughed and Jonathon grinned before his attention was snared by some of the others. Derek fell silent, staring at his hands or the various games of handball out on the quad. Archie walked up to him when a double bell signified the end of lunch.

“What time this afternoon?” he asked gruffly, as if Derek was merely a substitute teacher and not his boyfriend of several months. As if Derek wasn’t the intended lover he’d taken to The Peacock.

“Whenever is good for you.” Derek didn’t quite manage to sound collected. At least he didn’t sound like a lemon caught in lawnmower blades, like he feared he would.

“Meet you at your car after school then. Don’t dawdle either, dickhead.”

λ

He sat on the bonnet of Derek’s car with his ankles crossed and knees up to support his arms as he flipped cards from one hand to the other. Derek thought he was the most striking hood ornament in existence. He didn’t slide off when Derek arrived but stood on the bonnet then pencil dropped in front of the car. He was sexy, bold, sure of himself and what he wanted.

Whatever Archie wanted, it no longer involved Derek.

Students milled about the side street like sheep. None murmured or gossiped about the two travelling together. The school population knew their Captain had been chauffeur and tutor to his should-be nemesis since the latter had his leg broken. They didn’t see anything in it because that’s the kind of charitable guy Derek Landon had been from the start, that’s part of why they voted him Captain in the first place. On top of that, if Weazl asked someone to do something they bloody well did it. Derek had no wish to let Archie air his grievances in public, otherwise he’d have asked ‘Are we breaking up?’ instead of silently unlocking the passenger door.

They didn’t speak apart from Archie’s gruffly given directions of “right down there”, “left off the roundabout” and “here’ll do.” Archie started the argument before Derek finished parking the car. “You shouldn’t use your friend like that. All this ‘nice’ is just bullshit you project. You’re an arsehole.”

“You know all about bullshit producing arseholes, being king of them all.”

“Fine.” Archie slammed the car door after he got out.

“I’m not using Jon. If he’d been going to sit anywhere other than near **you** I would have…”

“No, you wouldn’t have been right beside him. You would have asked Steward what he was doing and why because you would have given a shit about somebody other than yourself.”

“I care about you.”

Archie laughed a blunt, callous laugh. “You don’t hit people you care about Derek. You protect them.”

“I lost it…”

“Because you’re worried people will find out you’re a fag. My friends know you want me but they don’t count as people, they’re just a bunch of feral freaks to you. You’re never going to tell anyone who matters to you about me, are you? They’ll never know. All this bollocks about ‘when school is finished’ is just so you can fuck me without your friends finding out. You know I can’t go with you. You don’t want anyone to know.”

“I want Jon to know. He knows you and I are friends, good friends. He knows I’ve been with the same person since last year, that I’m in love with that person and want to share a home with that person. We’re going to the same university. By then he’ll know that person is you.”

“Before or after you leave?”

“When I know he’ll understand. Out of everyone around me, only Jon accepts my friendship with you. Jon needs to be ready to hear it when I’m ready to tell him. I’m cowardly and selfish and I know it. But I’m not as cowardly and selfish as you think.”

“You aren’t as nice as I thought either. I started liking you because you were nice.”

“I’m not as nice as I was. But that’s your fault.”

“Why did you kiss me Landon?” Archie demanded loudly. He always did this; changed tack to see if Derek would topple overboard and become a shark’s chew toy. If his heart didn’t hurt so much every time Archie turned away he wouldn’t bother trying to stay on deck.

“Because there’s no-one like you,” Derek said in a low voice. “You made me angry, you made me think, you made me laugh, smile, and listen. You made me want to put my arms around you and keep them there. You made me love you when I believed I shouldn’t.”

“Do I make you do those things now?” Another demand, but this one was painted with an undercoat of fear in case the answer was no.

“Yes.” _I love you more now._

“Do you want to kiss me now?” A gloss of hope had been added and Derek once again saw a future together.

“Yes, always.”

“Get on with it then.”

Derek looked around them before walking around the car. He knew no-one from school or church would see them. Archie wasn’t stupid, but Derek couldn’t suppress his self-preserving instincts. “I promise I’ll never hurt you like that again,” Derek whispered before holding both of Archie’s hands and kissing him softly, the way Archie first kissed him. Archie opened the door behind him and they made out on the front seat after Derek closed it.

“What else do I make you want to do?” Archie asked breathlessly.

Derek demonstrated the things that required no to minor nudity.

Archie’s voice was soft and drawn out, like Derek’s movements as he showed his sweetheart how much he loved him. “Yeah, oh god Derek, yeah, that’s, mhm don’t stop, yeah, oh keep sucking, oh god Derek suck me, yeah.” His hands were gently firm on Derek’s head and he occasionally pushed slowly up into Derek’s mouth. Derek made the most of it; savouring the noises they made, the feel of Archie against his tongue and along the roof of his mouth, the rhythmic motion of two bodies sharing one moment of bliss. This time Derek swallowed Archie’s orgasm instead of finishing him with his fingers. The tender way Archie looked at him as he touched Derek’s face and stroked a thumb across the corner of Derek’s lips to remove an escaping dribble of cum while Derek suckled his knob, was the most intimate thing Derek had ever experienced.

“I hope this means we’re still together.” Derek repeated Archie’s words from months ago, confident of a positive response. He intended to say ‘I love you’ to make the moment mutually perfect but Archie spoke first.

“Still together? We broke up the moment your knuckles met my face.”

Derek wanted to hit him again, on purpose this time. _Cruel, heartless_ …

“This means we’re back together. Treat me like that again Derek, touch me in **any** way without an invitation, and you’ll be learning to eat through your arsehole.”

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t. If you did it wouldn’t hurt now, would it Angel?”

Derek understood. This was how Archie cried so other people didn’t see his tears.

“I’m sorry Sweetheart.” Derek kissed the inside of Archie’s wrist and rested his head on Archie’s thigh, face turned to look into his favourite pair of eyes. He promised himself that one day Archie would trust him enough to let Angel see his sweetheart cry.

15 – 19 December 1975

The divided social groups slowly blurred back together once the Captains Bench realised Jonathon wasn’t leaving the Wild Wood and Derek wasn’t leaving Jonathon. Derek’s reception was a little warmer each day, although Cheng and Donk took the drastic step of driving to his house and waiting out front for him to return from Archie’s.

“Pull that kind of shit on him again Landon and I will pound you down to hell with a mallet.” Donk said it casually, almost amiably, while handling the mallet in question. “Weazl may not trust me like he used to but I’m **always** watching his back.”

“And nobody wants to be wearing the Donk seal of disapproval,” added Cheng.

Donk nodded at his friend. “I like that. I’ll have to stamp that on my tyre iron.”

“Glad I could help,” Cheng quipped with his usual grin.

“See ya fag,” Donk said to Derek with a snappy mock salute.

“Landon.” Cheng nodded a cold farewell.

“Arseholes,” Derek muttered as they drove away. But he couldn’t help wondering what his friends’ reactions would be if Archie raised a hand to him.

21 December 1975

The resurrected plan to exchange virginities for Christmas had to be shelved. Derek’s grandfather fell seriously ill and Derek’s mother insisted on taking her family to visit for a week and cheer him up.

“Finish him off more like,” complained Derek as he sat on the floor of Archie’s room with an arm around his beloved’s waist and his cheek flattening one side of the sculpted hair.

“Family’s important,” Archie insisted as they shared the oranges Derek brought over.

“You’re important.”

“So is family. Every member of your family cares about you. Stop being a selfish, pitiful shit.” He bounced orange peel off Derek’s knee.

“I’d take you both with me if I could.”

“I know.” Archie kissed Derek’s cheek.

This small sign of trust meant a lot to Derek. He ran one hand up the centre of Archie’s back only to have him wiggle and flinch away before he got very far. Derek quickly grabbed his waistband so he couldn’t get away. “Has the cock-cheese had another go at you?”

“No.”

“Show me.”

“No!”

“Blast it Archie!” _So much for trust!_

“He didn’t, although he will when he sees it.”

Derek’s first thought was of the hideous ladder-like piercings called corseting. Archie already had too many bits of metal in odd places for Derek’s liking, his most ‘normal’ being four sleepers through the top ridge of one ear and nothing in the other. The novel allure of the nipple piercing evaporated long ago. Derek foresaw future arguments over scrotal piercings and similar nonsense. “Show me.”

“When you get back.”

“No, show me now so we can take them out and it can heal over by then.”

“Don’t tell me what to do with my body Derek.”

“You’ll get an infection or something from all those holes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Whatever you’ve got in your back.”

“Tattoos don’t make holes.”

“You got what?”

Archie shifted his bottom along the floor away from Derek. “Nothing. You better get going, pack or whatever.”

Derek let him go this time. “Are you old enough to get tattooed?”

“Depends on where you go.”

“Why? Why would you do that to yourself?”

“I thought…doesn’t matter. I guess it was a mistake.”

“You guess? Of course it was a mistake!”

“You better leave now.” Archie’s voice lost its defensive inflection as he got to his feet.

Derek knew Archie was switching to attack mode. “No,” he said and remained seated.

“Excuse me?”

“If I leave now you might not let me come back.”

“Why would you want to?” Archie asked angrily.

“So we can be together.”

“You won’t. I should have known you’d disapprove of ink. You always want me to be more like you and…your friends.”

“No I don’t.” _Perhaps in regard to hairstyles, piercings, music, clothing, manners, tattoos and…Crud!_ “I just didn’t expect this. Let me see it, please?” Derek asked gently this time. Surely Archie hadn’t done anything too extreme. “I love every part of you. Please?” He stood and approached him slowly. Archie met Derek’s eyes with a defiant gaze while removing his jacket and then his shirt. Derek wanted to touch the bared chest and kiss him from throat to mouth, so he did.

“Shit Derek,” Archie gasped before their lips met. They were so hungry for each other that Derek wondered how they’d survive apart. “Horny bastard,” Archie panted gruffly.

Derek tongue-fucked his mouth to prove it then told him to turn around.

“Don’t touch it, alright Angel? It hurts like a dry fuck.”

_I’ll give you one of those if you’re not careful._ “Oh my God!” Derek exclaimed in mild horror at the picture on his boyfriend’s back and Archie immediately reached for his shirt.

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

Astonishment nailed Derek’s feet to the floor and locked his jaw open as he stared. The picture was of an angel, of sorts. A five inch tall, naked, male seraph, with half open wings; its body drawn directly over Archie’s spine so the two inch wings moved with Archie’s muscles. It held a sword of blue flame in both hands. The pommel rested below the seraph’s navel and the blade’s tip pierced the mist swirling over his feet. The mist spelled out ‘angel’ in capitalised Edwardian script.

Derek flatly stated his opinion. “You idiot.”

“I told you to get out.”

Derek managed to take two steps back. “What made you think I need **that** to know you love me?”

“I didn’t get it just for you. I like it. There’s a story I read where a married man was branded with his gay lover’s name after they were caught shagging and he flaunted it instead of being ashamed like his wife’s posh family intended. I liked the idea of being marked as somebody’s and since we’re supposedly serious…”

“Thank god you didn’t brand my name on your rump like a cow!” The mental image was grotesquely comical and they grimaced at each other.

“The branding part grossed me out, I admit. Could you imagine the stink? But I always planned on getting tattooed. When I saw this, it was perfect.”

Derek thought it was perfectly stupid, regardless of how enticingly phallic or increasingly, devastatingly erotic it was. _Oh god, he put it on his back, on his back where I can see it, see the name he calls me as he calls it out, calls out ‘Angel’ while we…_ “Fu-uck!” he exclaimed softly as he understood the true significance of the tattoo. Archie didn’t intend to give himself to Derek for Christmas, but for life. _He loves me, after what I did to him, he trusts me not to do it again._ “You don’t do things by halves do you Sweetheart? It is perfect. You’re perfect. I’m sorry. I didn’t understand. I think you’re beautiful and sweet, without all these embellishments.” He stilled the hands fumbling with shirt buttons, lifted his fingers to Archie’s chin, tilted his face up and kissed those tightly compressed lips. “What I love about you is more than that. I want to give myself to you too. We belong together, forever. You just have more dramatic ways of showing it than I do.”

Archie’s lips relaxed into a smile and he returned Derek’s kiss. “I love the way you figure out where I’m coming from after we fight.”

They came to know each other more through fighting than from casual chats. “I don’t hate that we argue so much anymore.”

“That’s because more arguments leads to more making up of the making out variety.”

“You know you love it as much as I do.”

They made up for another three minutes before they heard cock-cheese arrive home. Derek left through Archie’s window in case Cyril opened the bedroom door to make sure his faggot son was alone and not fiddling with himself.

21 – 31 December

Derek frequently handled himself as he wondered what the tattooed skin might feel like and how Archie would look, move, sound and feel with his arse full of Derek’s cock. Between frantic bouts of masturbation he managed to find the perfect gift for the one he loved. The tiny object stayed under Derek’s pillow when it wasn’t in his pocket and he smiled every time his fingers found it. He couldn’t wait to bring in the New Year.

31 December 1975

Derek would welcome 1976 with Jonathon, meaning Derek would be with Archie while Jonathon went out on the town sampling street parties with Veronica and Scott. Andrew and Nigel, reputed wild things of their set, were stuck at home with their families. Poor, pathetic, timid Jonathon and Derek laughed at this as Derek drove Jonathon to the usual station. This ploy hadn’t failed them yet and the self-centred confidence of youth stopped thoughts of possible danger finding their heads, let alone entering them. Jon waited in the car as Derek ordered from an Italian restaurant that prepared take-away meals. Dinner for two would be ready for pick up on his way back to Archie’s.

Jonathon praised Derek’s romantic forethought as they waited for the train. “Hopefully I’ll be kissing a stranger at midnight, any stranger so long as they’ve two legs and no beak. Just in case I end up off my nut at the zoo, you see. I don’t want my big holiday smut fest involving a walrus, caribou or an ostrich. Any primate will do in a storm of booze.”

Derek laughed and wished him luck as Jonathon safety pinned Derek’s spare car key to the inside of his backpack. Derek suggested attaching it to his jeans in case of muggers. Jon insisted the jeans were as expendable as Australian troops at Gallipoli but he’d be keeping that backpack closer than Sue kept her sanitary pads. Derek found both comments disgusting and harsh yet worth a chuckle. They repeated the ritual of pulling ridiculous faces through the window as the train pulled away.

31 December 1975 – 1 January 1976

The food was almost ready when Derek walked by on his way to Archie’s. He didn’t have to wait long, just long enough to become so nervously excited he dropped his wallet, spilling its financial and prophylactic contents in front of a family encompassing four generations, twice! The elderly matriarch chortled that someone was getting lucky as Derek scrabbled on the floor to make sure he found everything for the second time.

He began to panic after leaving the restaurant. If he couldn’t keep his hands steady enough to open and close his wallet, how in the world would he manage to open a condom and put it on? Everything was going to go wrong, he could feel it. Archie won’t like the meal, or he’ll see it as an insult rather than a romantic gesture and they’ll fight but instead of making up it’ll be over and Archie will have that terrible sexy thing on his back for no reason. Derek almost didn’t finish crossing the road. He almost turned to go back and sleep in the car while waiting for Jonathon to return in the morning. They packed blankets, pillows, sleeping bags, beanies, mittens and all sorts of other things to keep warm in case one or the other suffered a major failure.

But Archie would be waiting for him in that meticulously tidy house from hell, alone, and believing Derek didn’t love him if he didn’t show. So what if they didn’t have sex? There were more important things to worry about. Once everything was put into proper perspective, Derek continued along his original direction.

Archie opened the door as his most beautiful self, not in disguise as that wretched Weazl character he thought he had to be.

Derek immediately told him how handsome he looked then kissed him hello once the door closed behind them. “I’m sorry Sweetheart. I nearly didn’t make it.” He described his fumbling at the restaurant and associated fears while the young man he loved listened avidly to every word. He’d called Derek out for lying before and tonight was not the night for lies. If what they shared was going to last then everything he said and did tonight had to be the absolute truth. Derek gave Archie the Christmas present he bought while away with his family. The objects inside the tiny plastic box weren’t as dramatic as a tattoo but he felt confident Archie would like it. Derek’s arm shook as he lifted Archie’s hand and placed a single stud in his boyfriend’s palm. “This one is for you—your ear, nowhere else. If we get to the break-up stage again and there’s no chance of getting back together then just take it out and I’ll know to leave you alone.” His voice quaked as he closed the lid on the stud’s partner and put the box in his pocket. “This one’s for me. When I put it in you’ll know that I’ve told Jonathon, not just that I’m gay but the whole truth about us. It will mark me as yours. I never imagined we could be together like this. You own me Archie.”

“I love you too Derek. This...Do you know how incredible this gift is?” Archie’s index finger touched the stud cupped in his palm as if it was made of 24 Carat gold not discounted Sterling silver. His hazel eyes were bright, burning like fire, like in Derek’s favourite song as he explained. “Piercing only one ear is a homo-tradition, left for top and right for bottom.”

Derek admitted he didn’t know that. “Which am I?”

“Considering you won’t let me anywhere near your arse, you’d be top. Once you’re out and that’s in, everyone who sees us together will know we’re a set.”

“They’ll know exactly how we fit together?” Derek asked. “Like pieces of a puzzle?” He was awestruck as Archie nodded. Derek touched Archie’s right earlobe, stroking it gently with his thumb and imagining how it would feel to have their love on permanent display. “I’d like that.” He whispered it as a kiss. “I’d like that a lot.”

The night didn’t go anything like they planned. They were supposed to eat first, talk, play some cards or something else inanely distracting until half an hour before midnight. **Then** they were going to start kissing like this; making promises they intended to keep with greater determination than any New Year’s resolution; touching each other with fingers, palms, lips, tongues; watching every muscle move in the lamplight as they explored each other on Archie’s bed; whispering, hardening, stroking, squeezing, covering, lubricating, opening, entering, sliding, grunting, moaning, rocking, thrusting.

“Uh- _Uh!”_ The sound Archie made as Derek thudded into him after going slowly for what felt like an entire year turned Derek on. He didn’t think he could get more aroused than he already was, but he did. Archie’s arse felt more incredible around Derek’s cock than around his fingers. Constricting muscles fought against him yet welcomed him in with the same movement. It was hotter than inside Archie’s mouth and deeper. Shallow exploration was no longer an option. At first the rubber second skin on Derek’s cock felt suffocating but he soon forgot it was there as Archie opened up to let him in deeper than his fingers could reach.

“Yes,” Derek hissed and thudded into him again, determined to make him repeat that sound. So enticing lying down with his bum up in front of Derek; thighs apart; stretched to accommodate him; head turned to the side to make that sound every time Derek pushed his whole length in; wrapped around his pillow like a man lost at sea held a barrel to stay afloat. Derek watched Archie’s face and arse and forgot everything but how it felt, looked and sounded to be fucking his sweetheart. He buggered faster and a bit harder. Archie’s sounds changed and he could no longer form words. Derek was able to say yes over again until he began to come and then could only make meaningless noise. His cock went limp as soon it emptied. The condom didn’t stay in place. He tried to keep it on and realised Archie hadn’t come yet. What was Derek meant to do? How was this supposed to work? Should he pull it out and then do something for Archie? Or should he help him climax first?

“Ah!” Derek exclaimed as the situation became worse.

“What?” Archie asked and tried turning to look. Derek had to half follow to stop the rubber staying in Archie’s arse as his uselessly drooping cock began leaving the nest.

“Cum, leaking out the sides!” said Derek while trying to keep Archie still.

“Is that all? Jesus Derek. I thought you were pulling my arsehole out along with your dick or something! Don’t scare me like that.”

Their equally wild eyes met as Derek felt Archie relax. They snorted and shook with poorly stifled laughter. Firecrackers went off down the street and their laughter became impossible to suppress.

Derek held the messy mass in place while he leaned forward to kiss Archie’s face.

“Happy New Year Sweetheart.”

“Happy New Year Angel.”

They managed to separate all the bits that needed separating, dispose of the bits that required disposal and clean the bits that needed cleaning—which mostly belonged to Derek. Derek was ready for a long, long nap after all of that.

“You didn’t come.” He voiced his disappointment as they curled up under the covers to stay close and warm.

“I know.”

“Was it, did you not, did it feel horrible, me doing that to you?”

“No it was, it was different than I expected—took a bit of getting used to—but it wasn’t bad. It, it was good. You were good. I don’t know why my dick didn’t join in with the fireworks. The rest of me had a rollicking good time.”

Their chuckles were tired and their eyes droopy, just as they were.

“I’m glad you didn’t give in those other times, especially in the car. This is amazing, being here with you.” Derek welcomed Archie’s silent, cuddly response. “It wasn’t as messy as I expected after your warnings, though.”

“While you were away I,” Archie hesitated and Derek cuddled him closer because this pause was shy rather than guilty, “practiced taking care of certain things so we wouldn’t get embarrassed by it when we were ready.”

Derek kissed along Archie’s eyebrow and then his lips. “You are amazing,” kissed his lips again, “wonderful,” again, “sexy,” once more, “perfect. Six months from now we’ll be spending every night like this. Although when we live together we’ll get a big bed. King Size,” Derek mumbled sleepily.

“I like small. Then we can’t avoid each other when we fight.” Archie followed this stern statement with a yawn.

“Middle size bed says Mama Bear, but definitely not green.”

They chuckled again and fell asleep before either said another word.

1 January 1976

It was difficult to sleep.

They kept bumping into each other and Derek kept slipping onto the cold floor. Archie hooked an arm and leg over him to keep him in but the weight of his scrawny limbs became annoying fairly quickly. “King size bed when we live together, definitely,” Derek mumbled as he wriggled away. His mind liked reliving their first time and he kept getting hard, which usually preceded his bare buttock coming into contact with the cold floor as he tried to avoid his erection touching any part of the naked wonder next to him. After a few hours of failing to get more than a few minutes sleep at a time he was kept awake by the most excruciating erection he’d had in his life. Not because it was the biggest but because he could bot possibly wank it away now and it tormented him beyond belief.

“For fuck sake Angel, stop muttering and go back to sleep.”

For fuck sake was precisely why Derek could not get back to sleep. He communicated this problem through the simple action of taking Archie’s hand and putting it on his saluting cock.

“Oh,” Archie replied simply, wrapped his fingers gently around it and began sliding his grip up and down.

“Oah,” Derek agreed and pushed up into the perfectly curved hand. “Oh, yes, mmm, oh.” He reached for Archie, who wasn’t hard but was getting there. “Sit on it sweetheart.” He huffed into Archie’s ear. “Ooh, sit around my cock and let me fuck you. I want to watch you fuck my hand while I fuck your arse.”

“Oh god. Rubber, we need…” Archie was interrupted by Derek’s fingers gently playing behind his balls.

“I can suck you and open you up while you put it on me.”

“Holy shit but hearing my good boy talk smut gets me hot!” Archie tossed him the Crisco, grabbed a couple of rubbers and they lay on their sides in the 69 position. They sucked each other’s knobs until Archie fiddled with the wrapper while Derek fiddled with his arse. Archie got distracted and started fucking back onto Derek’s fingers, holding onto Derek’s thigh and making sounds against it.

It made Derek so incredibly horny he slid his fingers out of their warm playground, got up onto his haunches between Archie’s thighs, and reached forward to take the condom from between Archie’s fingers. Archie put his ankles on Derek’s shoulder in a smooth move and Derek’s knob twitched away from the raincoat he was trying to roll on. Archie laughed, reached between his legs to tweak Derek’s balls, and laughed again. Derek smiled and their eyes met. Joyous love, pure and earnest, lifted them higher than heaven. Derek positioned his sheathed sword at Archie’s entrance, pushed his head in slowly, and rapidly began to…

“Fuck! Oh-hoh fuck!” Archie exclaimed.

“Oah yeah!”

He fucked him harder this time, right from the start, but not intentionally. Derek wasn’t thinking, just doing. There was less resistance from Archie’s ring which made it easier. Archie’s legs eventually found a position to suit him. Derek found an arrhythmic motion that suited them both, and they clumsily reached a place where Derek could thrust while he and Archie pulled Archie’s cock together so they both come at close enough to the same time.

Being inside Archie was more fantastic than Derek imagined it would be. Derek told him so as he took more care removing his softening dick, kissing Archie’s leg—a couple of hairs tickled his nose—while keeping the sticky, slimy and slippery condom under control. A sudden roar of “DEBORAH!” froze them with terror.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Archie quietly repeated the word in a litany as he wriggled back, interspersing the curses with sounds of discomfort as their gloriously joined bodies became separate again. “Shit, shit, shit.”

The kicks to the front door were almost synchronised with the profanities. Derek was too scared to make a sound as Archie shoved clothes at him—“shit, shit, shit”—and steered him to the window.

“DEBORAH YOU WHORE! ARCHIBALD! OPEN THIS DOOR YOU CATAMITE!” The cock-cheese was obviously too blithered to successfully negotiate his way to the back door.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Archie put clothing on inside out, wrong way round, upside down, “shit, shit, shit.” His mantra became higher in pitch as his panic increased. _He must be close to tears_. Derek dropped his clothes to help Archie dress then opened the window and climbed through, naked.

“Come with me,” he whispered, grateful that the rubber fell off his knob before freezing to it. Archie shook his head, threw Derek’s shoes onto the grass then closed and locked the window. Derek slid his feet into his shoes, putting on his shirt and jacket as he ran to the darkest shadows. Lord it was cold. He kicked off his shoes, pulled on pants and socks, tied his shoes on properly and waited.

There was no more yelling. No screaming or sounds of violence of any sort. Derek was scared beyond belief. He waited five minutes, ten, thirty, forty five…

Somewhere between forty five minutes and an hour later the back door opened and a familiar shape edged out into the yard. “Derek?” it whispered carefully, doubtfully. Derek bolted over to Archie before he said it again. He held his sweetheart tight and kissed him desperately.

“Lord, Archie, are you alright?” Derek asked as he checked his lover’s face for swelling and bruises.

Archie suddenly stood firm when Derek tried to drag him into the sanctuary of the shadows. “Cock-cheese is asleep. I gave him the food you brought to shut him up and he fell asleep eating it. He didn’t say anything after ‘heat up that wog food’, just sat there watching me heat it up then made me sit there watching him eat. He didn’t even have a go at me for taking too long to open the door. I had a story ready and everything. I don’t get it Angel. He’s never back before noon on New Year’s Day and he **never** uses my name.” That panicked edge came back to hone Archie’s voice to masculine perfection.

Derek expected the excrement to hit the oscillating air circulator once the cock-cheese woke up. “I’m not letting you stay here with that.” Derek gestured to the house without letting go of Archie. “Either of you, Deb has to come too. We’ll track down her _National Geographic_ salesman. They’ll live happily ever after and we can run a foster home full of children.”

“Never in our wildest dreams will any of that happen!”

Derek smoothed tremulous hands over Archie’s back from waist to shoulders then shoulders to waist. “Listen,” he said. Emotion dried out his voice and he couldn’t look Archie in the eye because he needed that particular dream to sustain him until he finished school. “Never in my wildest dreams did I think anyone would pay money to listen to your rubbish band or that I’d find the nerve to approach you.” He deliberately paced his breathing to match Archie’s and murmured earnestly against his cheek. “Never in my wildest dreams did I think you would love me too.”

“I do,” Archie replied hoarsely. They tilted their faces enough to exchange a kiss while hands slid over their lover’s back to frantically clutch each other by the shoulders. Derek tasted a tear that wasn’t his.

“See? It **will** happen, Sweetheart. We’ll make it happen.”

Archie kissed him again before running back inside.

Derek wanted to call out “I love you, don’t do anything dangerous!” but that could wake the monster. He whispered it softly then thought it loudly as he jogged to the train station, one word with each footfall, repeated until he reached the sanctuary of his vehicle.

λ

Derek was only able to sleep in the cold car because he was absolutely exhausted. Dreadful thoughts did not allow his brain or body to recharge, torturing him with possible violence committed against his lover or scenarios where the front door wasn’t locked and cock-cheese arrived two minutes earlier.

“Shit, Archie! You okay?” he almost yelled in response to Jonathon’s tap on the window. Derek was still too disoriented to know what he said and Jon was too high on life to pay attention.

Jonathon turned to wave joyously to a group of strangers who waved, cheered and blew kisses back as they returned to the platform. One girl appeared to be a vampire. Jon was the only one dressed like a moderately sane person, even then…

“Did you swap clothes with Dr Seuss’ Cat in The Hat?” Derek asked blearily.

Jonathon looked down at his attire. “Among others,” he said with a grin. “I have had the **best** night of my life! I don’t care if you sharpened your pencil down to a nub Derek, you did **not** have a better night than me. And thou shalt not mock the sacred texts of Dr Seuss!” His frenetic energy and radiant grin were so contagious that Derek immediately agreed to go for a walk to hear all about it. Jonathon had imbibed no alcohol, taken no narcotics, nor eaten anything stranger than a battered sausage on a stick and dipped in tomato sauce, yet seemed to be completely off his face. Derek couldn’t believe it.

“I haven’t seen you like this since we toppled off makeshift toboggans and crawled through the snow like Bond villains!” Derek grinned. Those were the best winters of his life, until this one. _Archie…_ Jon’s verbal deluge followed its path heedless of Derek’s sudden solemnity.

“That’s because the simple of joy of living is the best high in the world. I wish you and your sweetheart could have come along. We went to playgrounds, danced outside of loud clubs we were too young to get into, set off fire crackers, rode trains to mystery destinations and back again, laughed our tits off, played musical clothing—which is why I’m wearing Scott’s hat and gloves. I’ve got Ronnie’s knickers, Tory the clown’s thermal vest and Del the princess’s garter belt under here somewhere too. And socks! Can’t remember whose socks, no wait, they’re mine. Got them back after all,” Jonathon prattled on enthusiastically and swept Derek into his merry tide of surprisingly sex-less activity. With all the clothing exchanges, countdown snogging and generalised distribution of adrenaline, no member of the party received so much as a touch up. Derek was impressed.

“Ronnie gave us all hickies of course, in keeping with her vampire motif.” Jonathon flashed a purple mark on his neck. “That didn’t half tickle. At the end we played our tin whistles and danced like fireflies until I had to catch my train before turning into a pumpkin. They came with me because I was by myself and they didn’t want something nasty to happen to me. Now they’re going back to party some more. Face it Derek, our Captains Bench friends are snobbish shite. They only get up to mischief when they’re drunk so they can blame their misbehaviour on the alcohol.” He inhaled deeply, relishing the chill morning air and turned to Derek with a warm smile. “So how was your evening?”

“Not quite what either of us expected,” Derek admitted pensively.

“I’m genuinely sorry for you both.” Jon’s joy dimmed in sympathy, prompting Derek to share.

“No, that part, uh that was good. So good we did it again…”

“Keep your pornographic anecdotes away from my virginal ears.” Jon pulled the towering hat down like a giant cylindrical earmuff. Derek laughed at him. Jonathon was the only one able to equal Kennelly for bawdy stories. True, Jon’s were mainly urban legends or inherited from his older brothers.

“It wasn’t just, you know, even though the romantic build up didn’t go as planned. So extraordinary, Sweetheart’s response to my Christmas gift…” Emotion softened Derek’s voice until it became inaudible.

Jon lifted the brim of the hat to peer at Derek. “Well received?” he asked with an encouraging smile.

Derek nodded. “By miraculous coincidence it has a deeper symbolism than intended.” He still can’t believe how fantastically romantic it turned out to be, yet can easily imagine Archie boasting to Vincent of both its simplicity and its significance. _I finally got something right._ He smiled broadly.

Jon’s joy on his behalf could serve as a lighthouse beacon. “Not seeing any reason to be glum yet chum.”

“We were almost caught by the father from hell. I had to scramble through the window wearing nothing but a jolly green Johnnie dangling from my masculine appendage.”

“Green?”

“Yeah well we intended to, for Christmas, but, hm.” _Too much detail there._

“Christmas-theme coloured condoms?” Jonathon’s laugh was appropriately subdued. He didn’t know whose father Derek referred to, only that the man was horrid. That was enough to make Jon worry. “Did you hang around to make sure Sweetheart was alright?”

“Of course, and made myself presentable while I did so in case I had to run back in.”

“Of course, you aren’t a complete cad. We can swing by and make sure everything’s alright if you like. I could go to the door on your behalf, sans silly hat and gloves of course.”

If only he could.

“I see,” Jonathon responded without humour to Derek’s awkward silence. “Is there a reason aside from parental displeasure that prevents me knowing the identity of your beloved? I’ll support you should it be someone your parents deem unacceptable. If it’s the buxom skinhead with twins for instance-”

“Stephanie Moody has twins?”

They stared at each other for several seconds.

“Perhaps it **is** best that I don’t know yet.”

λ

Jonathon made a brilliant suggestion as Derek began the fretful drive home. “Why don’t you ask Sweetheart’s friends to swing by the bird cage and make sure Sylvester hasn’t eaten your Tweedy Bird?”

“You’re a genius!”

“So why do **her** friends get to know…?”

“Cultural differences,” Derek replied bluntly.

“Ah. Sue mentioned a lovely Asian girl delivering a love note during the summer. I must say Derek, I’m proud of your refusal to surrender to parental opinion.”

“Please Jon, stop fishing.”

“Just as soon as you stop your sister flirting with me,” countered Jonathon.

“Is Sue still doing that? Sorry, although I’d prefer you as a brother-in-law to Kennelly.”

“Both options are far too horrible to contemplate. Take me home Jeeves and then telephone your beloved’s rescue party. Don’t forget to keep me informed so I don’t wasting time worrying about you worrying your head off.”

“You’re **the** best friend Jon; not just mine, but **the**.”

“You can make it up to me when I’m old and have no life.”

Derek laughed. Jonathon may not threaten to bash someone’s face in on Derek’s behalf but he was always there when Derek needed him, even with this low wall between them. He’s the only person Derek can imagine revealing his truths to.

“Trust me Jon, I’m here for you.”

2 January 1976

Cheng telephoned the Landon house.

“Are you going to start bringing foreigners into this house as well as degenerates?” Derek’s mother asked. Father began lecturing her about ‘all men being equal’ and ‘judge not, lest ye be judged’ as Derek accepted the call.

“Bad news Landon, no male callers allowed round there according to cock-cheese. I just got off the phone with Archie. Apparently it gave them both a flogging yesterday and until Archie admits which one of us has been sticking his dick up the boy’s date… Are you getting the picture?”

“How did he know?” Derek’s voice was emasculated by fear and guilt.

“That’s what Archie wants to know. We’re sending a couple of girls around to scope things out and Steph will let you know how that goes. Don’t wait around home all day. She’ll leave a simple message if you’re out: either ‘not a problem’, or ‘sorry, can’t do that’. Got it? Do not call him yourself. Bloody hell Landon, Wren and I never cause this amount of trouble.”

Derek telephoned Jonathon and asked if he could come over. After receiving Derek’s edited report and offering welcome sympathy with an appropriate scolding, Jonathon suggested calling Nigel and Andrew and spending the day playing cat and mouse. Nigel rode in Andrew’s car and Jonathon in Derek’s as the drivers chased each other around town without knocking over pedestrians or crashing into other vehicles, signposts or buildings.

Everything was nicely distracting, until Derek leaned in to kiss his friend goodbye. The scene was similar to some of his inappropriate dreams and he pulled up short. “Ah!”

“What?” Jonathon asked, looking out the window for evidence of alien invasion.

“I nearly, didn’t you notice?”

“Notice what?”

Derek laughed with relief. “I nearly kissed you goodbye.”

Jonathon laughed genuinely in return and they set each other off in a medley of merriment. “Oh man,” Jon gasped eventually. “You’re lucky that didn’t happen with Weazl or I would have killed you. **He** would have killed you, rather.”

This set Derek off again and Jonathon followed along once more.

Derek felt awkward after they finished chortling, because it did happen with ‘Weazl’ _and he didn’t kill me Jon, he loves me._ “Thanks for not screaming fag or something at me.” Maybe he could tell Jon now.

“It takes more than almost accidentally kissing a friend while your mind’s on more serious troubles to make you homosexual Derek.” Jonathon patted Derek’s knee like a kindergarten teacher explaining to a crying five year old that just because you wet your pants at school it didn’t mean you were a baby, now please stop carrying on and get a clean set from the clothing pool.

“There should be a handbook to avoid confusion.” Derek’s ponderous frown was marred by a grin at the end.

“You moron,” Jonathon backhanded Derek’s thigh as he got out of the car. “Keep me posted on the Sweetheart situation.”

The opportunity to reveal everything had passed. Derek hoped there’d be others.

4 January 1976

He woke up almost blinded by a stress-induced headache. Derek hadn’t heard anything from anybody but the Captain’s Bench for two days and he couldn’t ask any of them what was going on at the Tanner home. He shuffled dejectedly downstairs. Mother fussed over him, touching his forehead and insisting she will stay home from Mass.

Father scolded her. “Good grief Bethany, he’ll be off to university in a few months. Are you going to follow him around then when he gets a cold?”

“It’s not a cold.” Derek and Mother said it together, although Derek’s protest was weaker than Mother’s. The thought of her paying a surprise visit to him in his new home never occurred to Derek before. Would he ever be with Archie without worrying about their parents discovering them together?

“You just worry about getting yourself ready Beth. Derek can take care of himself for a few hours. Grab a thermos of water and go back to bed Derek. A few hours peace and quiet will be more beneficial than a fretful mother hovering over him.”

Derek waited ten minutes after they left to ensure they hadn’t forgotten something and doubled back. Then he telephoned Stephanie.

“Sorry Landon, I’ve got troubles of my own. Didn’t Wren call Cheng to tell you what’s going on?”

Derek decided to risk phoning his boyfriend directly. Hopefully the cock-cheese was visiting his usual Sabbath day haunt. Deborah answered the phone and sounded relieved that Derek called rather than angry at him for shagging her son.

“Is he okay? Are you? Is it safe for him to talk to me?” Derek asked in a rush.

“As okay and as safe as he’ll ever be while that arsehole’s alive. I’ll get him for you.”

Derek didn’t have to wait long. He began talking before Archie could say hello. “I’m sorry, this is my fault.”

“Hardly, if it wasn’t you it would be someone else. I don’t mean that the way it sounds. I didn’t intend to die a virgin so it would have happened eventually; better with you and like that than some other way with someone else.”

“Can I see you? I need to know you’re alright.”

“Steady on there, I might start thinking you love me or something.”

Derek heard his amusement. “You should know that I do by now.”

“Come in from the laneway. I’ll leave my window open a bit, only a bit mind you. It’s cold.”

“Want me to bring an extra blanket or two? We have a few to spare in the old air-raid shelter.”

“Your house has an air-raid shelter? Just stamp Suburbanite on your head and be done with it.”

“If I knew how to lock and unlock it from the inside I’d let you live in it.” _And we could have been doing wonderfully naughty things to each other in there for months._

“See you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Derek kissed Archie hello through the window and wondered what manner of flogging Cyril delivered because he didn’t look any different. Oh wait, there was one small difference—he’d put in the ear stud Derek gave him. Derek touched it affectionately once he was properly in the room.

“How badly did he hurt you?” he asked.

“He’s done a lot worse, just a series of stripes across the lower back. He would have gone right off had he lifted my shirt any higher and seen my angel there.”

“Cheng said he knew. Does he really or was he just guessing?”

“He certainly made it sound like he knows. He never called me that other word before either but now it’s my new name apparently. I had to look it up. Do you know what it means?”

Derek nodded. It’s one of the words he and his friends looked up in reference books after learning about Sodom and Gomorrah in Sunday school. It’s why he confessed to Father Theodore about his fixation with another boy, and another reason he couldn’t share the truth about his love for Archie with his friends.

“Of all the things he could have called me he manages to find the only one I’ve found offensive, arsehole. I think he has super powers. He can read minds and that’s how he knows all this stuff and how to find us.”

“You need to stop reading those surreal _X-Men_ comics.”

“He needs to bend his powers to the enforcement of good instead of the perpetuation of evil.”

“You need to stop reading the dictionary as well.”

Archie laughed. “That was the only book he let me read at home for years until he realised it was making me smarter than him.”

“I’ve been so worried about you, and you’re still the same.” Derek kissed him then asked to see his back. Archie showed him without argument. Derek was surprised to discover there wasn’t a mark on him, although it was sensitive to touch in a number of places. He ghosted a kiss over the most painful spot and Archie inhaled.

“Again,” he said softly. Derek kissed it again, then the other places he touched that made Archie flinch. Archie took Derek’s hands and curved them around him so Derek pressed against his back. “Our night together was wonderful Angel. Honestly. I never imagined it could be like that. Not for me. Be with me again, now. Please?”

They made out until they were ready then Derek made love to him slowly, carefully pushing into him as he lay flat on his stomach, arms around the pillow again, folding both lips between his teeth to stifle that arousing uh- _UH_ sound Derek enjoyed so much. Derek breathed heavily. He moved faster and pushed more firmly in order to come. Their bodies made noise together but he couldn’t help that. Hopefully Archie’s little radio covered their sounds as Derek lay almost flat on his boyfriend’s back, cheek to angel tattoo, one arm around Archie’s chest and the other holding his cock as he fucked him with small, determined thrusts. They made small, reflexive vocalisations because it felt more incredible than before. _How much better can it possibly get?_

After they came he kissed the angel, straightened to kiss the newest stud in Archie’s ear and whispered “You’re perfect.” before carefully removing his cock. The full condom caused no trouble this time and they celebrated with silent smiles, sharing amusement at their first awkward attempts. Derek lay beside him once they were dressed. They kissed, smiled, talked of lighter subjects and held each other until Derek remembered he was supposed to be home in bed, not here in bed.

“Being with you is so wonderful. I don’t want to be anywhere else.” His thumb caressed Archie’s face. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow Sweetheart.”

Archie agreed. They kissed goodbye and then again through the window once Derek climbed out. “Thanks for the blankets Angel.”

Derek ducked down and followed the fence line until he could flip over the back fence into the laneway. He almost kicked the peroxide and home-perm addicted floosy from next door in the head as she added something to her dust bin.

“Sorry, just dropping off some stuff. You know how people are about accepting charity…” His brain went blank and his smile froze in place for a second or two. “I’ll be off then. Good day to you.” He strolled down the lane, looking back every few steps, and then ran like the dickens to his car once he saw she’d gone.

He made it home with time to spare before Mass ended and was showered and eating when his parents returned.

“All better I see?” Father enquired and Derek nodded. “I told you Beth. A day in bed cures most ills.”


	2. The Bolting Horse

5 January 1976

Derek waited for his sweetheart to get to school. Trying not to appear nervous made him more nervous and another stress headache began torturing his temples.

What if he said or did something differently than he would have before and everyone realised the School Captain has been having sex with the Weazl? It was a lot different to touching up and sucking cock. It made everything different between them. He felt different. What if he looked different?

He truly understood Jonathon’s disgust with conformity. The slightest change stood out when everyone was the same. When everyone was unique, change merely became part of one’s personal evolution.

Derek didn’t relax when Archie arrived with his fighter squadron. He was too busy concentrating on retaining his posture, not exhaling with relief, and not smiling like a love sick girl as Dawn flicked the stud in his boyfriend’s ear.

“When’d you get that?”

“An Angel gave it to me for Christmas.”

“Oo-oo-ooh. Did he give you that bruise on the back of your neck too?”

“I wish.”

Andrew, Nigel and seven others from the Captains Bench moved along to the seats farthest from the Wild Wood; voicing their disgust at that tosser faggot who thought he had the right to talk about his abnormal love life in public like a normal person. Derek felt his face grow hot and couldn’t control it. His friends didn’t know they were also talking about him. But Derek knew and Archie’s friends knew. The remaining Benchers voiced their disapproval of this behaviour but it only numbed the corners without alleviating the core of Derek’s pain. Jonathon misunderstood his trauma.

“It must be difficult—being School Captain when your friends are breaking rules you have to enforce. For your sake I hope this doesn’t escalate.”

“We won’t do anything to get you lot in a pickle,” Dawn assured those who’d stayed put. “You lot are all right. We’ll deal with those ones outside of school if they cross any lines.”

The others smiled nervously, not sure if she was joking.

Jonathon suddenly developed a fascination with Archie’s new ear stud.

“What **are** you staring at?” Archie asked.

“Sorry. My cousins were arguing over the holidays because one of the girls wanted to get only one ear pierced and her sister said that’s only for—I won’t use her words—only for gays. Then she went into this diatribe about which ear meant what. I always assumed people just pierced what they wanted. Now I’m completely boggled.”

“Join the rest of us,” said Stephanie.

“I put it in the right because my boyfriend always seems to be on that side. I want him to be able to see that I’m wearing it.”

“Must be pretty serious.” Jonathon became aware that both groups were looking at him. “I can’t make polite conversation? We haven’t heard boys talk about boyfriends or girls and their girlfriends. Or even boys about girlfriends for that matter, except for Derek and his sweetheart. Andrew and Donk talk about what they do with girls, not how they feel about them. I demand romance!”

“You’ve changed your tune!” Donk sounded devastated.

“It’s called maturity Kennelly. Since you can’t snort, smoke, screw, or suck it into a syringe I doubt you’ll be pursuing it.”

The entire Wild Wood laughed, including Donk. Derek’s mortification had been erased by the time first bell rang. He thanked Jonathon on the way to roll call.

“For what, old chap?” Jon asked.

“For…” _appreciating how I feel, being nice to my boyfriend, standing up for poofters like me_ “…keeping the peace. Some days I don’t know how I’d survive this place without you.”

λ

Conversation during recess became a three-way debate between parties who preferred body piercings, tattoos or neither. Derek was utterly astounded by Jonathon’s revelation.

“I have an Incan symbol on my behind.”

Derek was too speechless to join the unanimous consensus of “You have not!”

“You’re probably right. For all I know it’s an abstract reworking of the word moron.”

Stephanie insisted Jon show it to her.

“Can you read Incan?” he asked.

“I can’t read English! I just want to see your bum.” Stephanie and Jonathon laughed together. Derek deliberately looked away as Jonathon let her peek. Andrew told Derek that Jonathon sat beside Stephanie in geography now. Derek wondered if they were a couple as a teacher called Jonathon’s name.

“Mr Steward! I’ll be seeing you for lunchtime detention.”

“Jon, mate! What are you doing for your best friend’s reputation as Head Boy?” asked Donk.

“Getting caught flashing your posterior attributes while I’m beside you is not helping me maintain student discipline,” Derek added.

“You didn’t precisely advise me **not** to flash my attributes. So?” Jon asked Stephanie. “What did they give me?”

“Tetanus,” Archie suggested with mock seriousness and Jonathon flashed him a grin.

“I don’t know,” Stephanie admitted. “But it’s cute. Your ink that is, not your bum, too pale.”

Derek was flabbergasted by Jonathon’s tattooed buttock but couldn’t help admiring his openness and determination to befriend the people he found fascinating. Derek’s eyes briefly met Archie’s intense hazel ones and they smiled at each other before Archie’s attention turned to Jonathon. “So, Steward. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he offered.

Derek freaked out internally while his body went into stasis.

“My bum or my tattoo?” asked Jonathon with a slightly nervous frown.

“I have absolutely no interest in your bum Jon, may I call you Jon?”

“Who’s going to argue with you?” Jon asked. Everyone but Derek chuckled at that.

“That’s the ticket.” The bell rang. “Oh well, too late now. Landon,” Archie added as an afterthought. “I’m grounded for the week and can’t come to your house for tutorials. On top of that I’m no longer allowed to have visitors at mine until the day I die. Can we meet up in the library study room at lunch to make alternative arrangements?”

“I don’t see a problem with that.”

λ

They had Archie’s math book and work paper spread out on the table while they talked quietly about other things.

“He found out about Sunday somehow and gave us both another flogging. It’s not like Mum knew you were there, let alone doing what we did. I didn’t even tell Cheng.”

“I certainly didn’t tell anyone.”

“I’m not saying you did.”

“I’m sorry Archie.”

“It’s worth it, being with you, even without that, you know?”

“I don’t think it’s worth it.”

“Do you think we should break up over this?”

“No. I think I should kidnap you, hide you in my air-raid shelter, sleep beside you every night and live happily ever after. Agreed?”

Archie smiled and pretended to rewrite a question from his book. Derek saw an army of tiny stick men begin to march across the page. He was probably going to fail math again this year. “After what your friend Jon said today I don’t think he’ll have a problem with you coming out, or with us being together. I think he’s alright, not just because he’s your friend.”

Derek had the feeling there was more but whatever it was remained unspoken so Derek changed the topic. “I like him. Are you grounded because of me?”

“Partly, I’m also not allowed to use the telephone for the rest of the month. That’s Mum’s idea though, because she saw the tattoo. I told her I was getting one, just not what, where or how big. She reacted like you did. It’s not the cleverest thing I’ve done.”

“It ranks up there with letting me in through your window yesterday.”

“Stop it, just remembering makes me hard.”

“It seems like everything makes me hard lately, especially you.” They fell uncomfortably silent for a moment. “What about your job? Won’t you get fired if you don’t turn up?”

“I’m allowed out to learn and earn but that’s it.”

“Do you get breaks? Can I come see you there?”

“Are you some kind of stalker?”

“I worry when I don’t hear from you, pardon me for caring,” Derek mumbled and started packing up. Lunch break would be over soon and he wanted to be waiting outside the detention room when Jonathon was released. No member of the Captains Bench had been in there before, ever. Derek confessed to being worried about Jon. “He’s changing, a lot. He says he’s not doing drugs but I’m not sure. Now this thing with his backside-”

“It’s not drugs. Steph’s keeping an eye on him.”

“Are they together?” Derek asked. He was offended that Archie knew things about Jonathon that he didn’t. What had happened to their friendship?

“No. But he’s seriously interested in someone, has been for a long time apparently.”

“I think he may have a girlfriend who pretends she’s a vampire. He spends our alibi time with her and their mutual friends while I’m spending mine with you. I can’t blame him for keeping me in the dark as to details.”

“You’re making a mistake by not telling him about us.”

Derek wanted to ask what made Archie so sure but he didn’t have time. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah."

λ

Jonathon declared the Tedium Emporium a cavalcade of entertainment in comparison to detention and asked why so many students were keen to be there on a regular basis.

“Perhaps it’s the only peace and quiet they get,” suggested Derek.

“Perhaps,” Jonathon conceded.

“You and Stephanie…?”

“No, just friends; rather like you and Weazl, except not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We exchange more than five sentences a week at school and Stephanie isn’t hot for me.” Jon gave a heartfelt sigh before Derek could respond. “Poor Weazl’s boyfriend, let’s hope his other half doesn’t know he has a thing for the straightest straight boy known to man.”

“I thought that was you.”

“What was what?” Jon asked with an odd frown/smile hybrid.

“The…Forget it. I’ve confused myself.”

“Let’s talk television, preferably something featuring radioactive aliens who intend to enslave humanity with their psychic powers.”

“You like some garbage.”

“You **are** garbage. I just proved your point for you. Ha!”

“Ha!”

6 –14 January 1976

Derek physically ached to tell Jon about Archie. The ache spread every day that he remained silent.

He wanted to ask how Jon knew Archie fancied him. Hopefully the answer would provide an opportunity to just say it. _We’ve been together since July. We broke up once but your bravery and determination helped us get back together and I never said thank you. Even if you can’t stand the sight of me anymore I have to say thank you. You’re a wonderful friend and a tremendous person. You’ve become my hero actually. I’m sorry for lying to you for so long. I’m sorry for lying to you at all._

He wrote it down but that felt more cowardly than keeping it quiet. He needed to tell Jon in person and face the consequences like a man. Until then he could prove that Jonathon’s words and actions meant something.

Vincent told Archie that the most important thing he could give Derek was time together. They no longer had time alone so Derek talked to him more at school, not as much or about the same things as they had discussed outside school beforehand. He behaved as a friend, not just a tutor/chauffeur/School Captain. He missed being intimate with Archie. Memories of what they’d shared kept his thoughts faithful. The pressure of Jon’s knee against Derek’s caused only a tiny jolt to Derek’s groin because nothing compared to making love with Archie.

14 January 1976

“I’m proud of you,” Jonathon said to Derek as they played chess in the Stewards’ living room. The telephone rang in the kitchen but Mrs Steward was in there so Jon made no effort to move.

“That might change when I tell you who my Sweetheart is,” Derek said nervously.

“That could happen only if Sweetheart’s too young, too old or too inanimate.”

Derek smiled through his apprehension. “Okay then.” He took a bracing breath. “Since July I’ve…”

“Jonathon love!” Mrs Steward interrupted. She sounding abnormally emotional. “Telephone, it’s Ronnie.”

“I’ll call her back,” Jon said irritably. His attention remained on Derek.

“No Jon, you can’t. It’s not Ronnie, but about—about Ronnie.”

Jonathon leapt to his feet as his mother put the back of one wrist to her mouth to keep from crying. Derek was impressed that Jon’s family knew and cared about his vampire girl. Were they together then? Jon spent enough time with his New Year friends for that to be the case.

“Will you stay the night Derek?” Mrs Steward asked as she left her youngest son alone in the kitchen. “He’s going to need you. I’ll call your parents.”

Derek couldn’t refuse a mother in tears. He wouldn’t say no to Jon, especially when that’s all his friend could say down the telephone. Derek stared at him through the open door. Mrs Steward folded her arms around her son and took the handset from his fingers. She replaced it in its cradle as he began to cry.

Whatever happened sounded far more serious than a break up. Derek waited in the living room, packing away the chess pieces and wondering how to help when his friend was so blatantly shattered. Jon left the kitchen like a cinematic mummy, all rigid limbs and blank expression. He mutely went to his room without looking at Derek. Derek followed.

He didn’t question his broken friend, he didn’t know what to ask or what comfort to offer but he would be here, willing and able to listen when Jonathon needed to talk. They silently made up the spare bed in Jon’s room then Jon sat on his own, hands between his knees, staring through the wall. Derek sat directly beside him so Jon felt the warmth of Derek’s arm against his.

“She’s dead.”

The words were hushed, like the sound of lace curtains shifting in a light summer breeze. Derek almost believed he imagined them.

“I’m so sorry Jon.” Why, with all the words available, was there nothing appropriate to say at a time like this? Nothing felt adequate.

Jon turned his head to look at Derek. “You truly are sorry.” He needn’t sound surprised!

“Of course I am. Your vampire girl brought you to life, now hers has been taken away. I’m sorry I accused your new friends of getting you involved with drugs. I didn’t understand why you were changing and I was worried.”

“You could have asked.”

“I’m asking now.”

“It doesn’t matter now. I’ll be changing back.”

“Why?”

“Do you know why the majority of the population is beige Derek? Why minority Technicolor groups are so far flung? Because there’s safety in beige,” Jon said while staring at the pattern in the carpet. His uncharacteristic monotone made Derek mildly dizzy.

“What happened to Ronnie?” Derek asked carefully.

“Ronnie told her friend, a girl, that she was in love with her. Her friend said ‘oh? Wow. I’m not like that, but there you go.’ And that was all, until Ronnie and her other friends get to school. They find truly vile graffiti and hear that the ‘friend’ has been telling everyone she comes across, whether she knows them or not, that Veronica Miller’s a dyke. You don’t want it known that you’re a Lesbian at an all-girl school Derek, because girls are bitches. Ronnie told Delphine—that was the New Year’s Princess, you probably don’t remember her?”

“Um, blond, conical pink hat and a clown nose? You wore her garter belt home.”

“I knew there was a reason you’re my best friend.” Jon’s wan smile did not last long. “Ronnie told Del she was going home for lunch, except Ronnie never went home Derek. Ronnie’s never going home again.”

“Did they—to her?” The very idea was horrendous but Derek had to know.

Jon shook his head as if the weight of a wrecking ball sat on his neck. “Suicide.”

Derek disregarded every lesson on typical masculinity and hugged his mourning friend.

“Why do people hate what’s different?” Jon asked in that same curtain-in-the-breeze whisper.

“I don’t.”

“You hate my punk and death metal music.”

“Because it’s garbage, not because it’s different. I’m proud of you for being different. You’ve helped me get through some tough times lately by being brave enough to be yourself. You’re incredible Jon. Everyone we sit with thinks so.”

“I don’t want to stand out anymore. I want to be boring and average again.”

Derek had never found Jonathon boring or average but chose not to argue. “Fine, I love you anyway. Not like…”

“How many times must I repeat myself Landon? Not my type. Now get off me before this becomes awkward.”

“ **Becomes** awkward? This was awkward as soon as it began!”

They laughed softly in the way only long-term friends can.

“So, without showing me, what’s the story behind your tattooed behind?” Derek asked with the brightest smile he could manage.

Jonathon laughed heartily this time. “That wore off days ago. Ronnie and Scott thought it would be a brilliant idea to get temporary tattoos while we were out for New Year’s, so we all did. I never expected anyone but them to see it.”

They joined the Steward parents for meals and Mr Steward asked Derek to stay during their son’s time of grief because “we know you understand”, meaning they knew what the Landon parents did not: Derek’s main charity case was homosexual.

The friends lounged about in Jonathon’s room talking rubbish and picking each other’s brains for crossword puzzle solutions until they were told to be quiet and go to sleep, supposedly for the eighty-eighth time.

“Your mother can’t count. I’m sure we’re only up to twenty-three.”

They chortled excessively due to being physically and emotionally exhausted. Jon didn’t ask about Derek’s sweetheart and Derek didn’t remind him. Not that he feared Jonathon would spray paint ‘Landon’s a poof’ over the school walls or start an abusive chant whenever Derek walked past. He was more concerned that Jonathon would constantly worry what others might do if they found out.

“What made Weazl gay?” Jonathon’s hesitant question wobbled through the darkness to support Derek’s theory of overwhelming concern.

A psychiatrist could find many reasons to explain why Archie was like that, but what about Derek? _What made me gay?_ “Nothing,” he decided. “You either are, or you aren’t.”

Jonathon paused to think that over. “What do priests mean when they say homosexuals ‘choose’ to be sinners?”

“That they choose to accept or deny it, I suppose.”

“Suppose…” Jonathon was silent for a while then spoke in a poorly restrained rush. “If Kennelly suddenly said he was gay, what would you say?”

“Thank god that won’t be breeding!” Derek knew Jon had posed a serious question but the cheap shot proved irresistible.

Jonathon sniggered. “Bad example, wot?”

“Truly,” Derek agreed and sniggered along.

“Be quiet or we’re sending Derek home!” Mr Steward’s threat effectively silenced the friends and they finally fell asleep.

15 January 1976

Jonathon addressed the Wild Wood before first bell and explained his decision to return to his previous fold. “I need to seek solace in the emotionless beige for a while. I can’t talk about it, not yet, although Steph knows. Derek has permission tell Weazl who will by extension be allowed to tell those of you, his loyal minions, who may be so kind as to enquire after me. Bad times, sad times, is all I’m ready to admit at the moment. I know some of you have actually started to tolerate Head Boy Landon, but as he’s **my** best friend I’m exerting my powers of ownership and taking him back to the land of dull with me.” His medley of reluctance and necessity was plainly visible so no-one took offence. Derek hurt on his friend’s behalf.

“We’ll be here when you need us.” The others nodded agreement with Archie’s simple statement.  Derek loved him so much for that. Surely only grief kept Jon blind to it.

Andrew and Nigel led the cheering from the Captains Bench as the stolen sons returned. They didn’t ask Jonathon why he’d turned traitor or why he suddenly came back. For a long moment Derek hated them. But then Jonathon slowly unwound and Derek understood that their lack of curiosity is why he was here. It hurt less without people asking what was wrong. Derek was the only one here who knew Jon had another, very different group of friends away from school.

This was Jon’s detention room and he’d come to seek peace.

17 January 1976

Derek and Jon hadn’t been cooped up in close quarters for this many days in a row since they were quarantined together with chickenpox at the age of twelve. Maturity kept their behaviour sensible for all of three afternoons then they returned to normal and Jon landed on Derek while pummelling him with a pillow. Derek’s brain and body reacted inappropriately. He rubbed a dirty sock in Jon’s face to prevent linking his fingers through Jon’s hair and pulling him in for a long kiss while lifting his hips to fit their bodies together. _Archie, I love Archie!_ Jon had hold of Derek’s wrist in order to wipe the sock germs off his face with Derek’s sleeve. Derek tried pulling away. Jonathon accidentally licked Derek’s palm instead and...

“Oh,” _god yes!_

Jon must have felt the throb of Derek’s arousal because he leaped off him then scraped his tongue with exaggerated swipes of a handkerchief. Derek’s mouth switched to autopilot, sprouting the same sort of drivel they always carried on with rather than voicing his desire for Jonathon to lick him somewhere else—everywhere else. _Suck me hard and then ride me right here. Hula your hips round my dick and come for me, on me._

“I should gargle with disinfectant,” Jonathon said as he left the room to put the sock in the dirty laundry hamper.

Derek sat up and wondered what to do now. He hadn’t heard any of Jonathon’s usual humour behind that remark. He hadn’t seen amusement in his eyes only alarm and, possibly, disgust. _Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit._ This was the worst. _Pretend nothing happened, which shouldn’t be difficult because_ nothing happened _! I_ didn’t _kiss someone other than my boyfriend Archie and I_ didn’t _ask someone other than my boyfriend Archie to_ suck my cock _._

He wanted to go home. How would he explain that to the Stewards without rousing suspicion?

Jonathon’s manner was comfortably familiar when he returned, which put Derek’s fears to rest but couldn’t allay his guilt for thinking of someone other than Archie. _I panicked and saw things in Jonathon’s behaviour that weren’t there. The alarm and disgust were my reactions, not his. The past few days have been distressing for us both. Nothing to worry about, I am_ not _lusting after Jon._

He repeated the last six words throughout the evening until things felt normal again. Then it was shower time. Back when they were twelve, coated in chickenpox and comparatively innocent, Jonathon had insisted on showering first “because I assume that you, like me, wash your face first and your privates last.” Since then Derek had stopped rubbing soap on his face and began rinsing the soap under hot water before and after using it, even at home. Now he stood under the warm water, staring at a block of goat’s milk soap sitting in the dish as his privates betrayed him yet again. Derek knew he’d become increasingly horny since that first glimpse of Archie’s bum at school but getting hard over a cake of soap was surely a sign of depravity, even though it wasn’t the actual soap that turned him on but rather the thought of where it had recently been. _Across Jon’s chest, between his legs, all over his bum…_ It became difficult to breathe. Perhaps Derek should turn off the hot water and punish his perfidious penis with a cold deluge. Or he could stop being a fool, pick up the soap and wash himself like a normal person. That seemed achievable until memories of helping Archie lather up merged with imagination to torture him further. Derek’s body somehow became Archie’s and then Jonathon’s while remaining his own as the soap performed its usual downward journey. Soap dropped noisily to the shower floor after coming into contact with his heavy scrotum so his hand could hold that instead, pulling, squeezing and rubbing. Derek’s other forearm braced his weight against the wall, his forehead rested on that arm and the slippery lather made sexual noises as he tossed himself off. He lifted and turned his head, pressing his mouth into the crook of his arm to contain his desperate panting and practically tongue kissing the inner crease of his elbow as he came. Archie’s name was the one he exhaled roughly but the back of the lover he fucked in this fantasy was unmarked by freckles or ink. The hair above the neck he imagined was short and light brown, not long and ginger or spiked and purple. The fingers he wanted around him and the voice he wanted to hear exclaim over the sight of white cum squeezing from his lust-reddened eye didn’t belong to his boyfriend.

It was over quickly. Tears of shame mingled with the shower spray running down his face as he rinsed off soap and that other stuff he didn’t want to think about. He didn’t understand why he thought of Jonathon like this. Derek loved Archie, and the most likely candidate for Jonathon’s girlfriend (if she hadn’t been a lesbian) recently committed suicide.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

18 January 1976

Derek did not attend Mass with the Stewards because Jonathon didn’t. So far he’d done a very good job of pretending yesterday wasn’t filled with shameful thoughts. Jon’s insistence that he needed time alone brought it all back.

“You’ve spent the last three days being my nanny Derek. Let’s say we’re going somewhere. You visit the sweetheart whom you’ve neglected on my behalf while I escape what feels like suicide watch. I’m plain old sad, Derek. I don’t want to die.”

“I’m not willing to risk that being a complete and utter lie.” Derek used his ‘I’m School Captain and you will obey me first-year twerp’ voice. He needed to see Archie desperately but Jonathon’s suffering held precedence.

Jon bestowed the first genuine, whole-hearted smile Derek had seen since Jon received the devastating news. Jon simply needed space to mourn before he could be happy again.

“Where shall we tell them we’re going today?” Derek asked casually.

Jonathon clapped his hands together with enthusiasm. “Well…”

λ

Derek forgot Archie was still barred from using the telephone, until Deborah answered.

“I suppose you’re proud of yourself, encouraging his idiocy?” she said in accusation.

“If he’d mentioned what he was going to do beforehand I would have done my best to talk him out of it,” Derek replied defensively.

“I meant all of it, not just that thing on his back.”

“It isn’t idiocy. I lo-”

“If you weren’t fucking him his father-”

“If you took him out of there-”

Derek discovered where Archie learned the impact of his ‘Arse-Weazl voice’. Deborah’s version was a sniper bullet, quiet and lethal. “You have no idea how many times I have taken my boy out of hell only to have that devil find him and bring him back. It’s always Archie he finds and steals him away from me—friends’ houses, schools, from hospitals. He feeds them the biggest load of bullshit but because he’s there with his corrupt copper cronies they believe him. They hand my boy over and accuse **me** of abusing him in the worst possible way when I come to pick him up. Brenda Kennelly didn’t know better at the time and her family still look out for him to make up for it because now they know. If I stayed away like you want me to, your boyfriend would be **dead**. You think you can look after my son better than I can? Come and get him.”

Derek wasn’t disobeying a voice like that. “Tell him to pack his stuff. I’ll be there in ten.”

λ

“I’m not leaving without Mum.” There was nothing childish about Archie’s attitude and Derek wondered whether to be more afraid of mother or son.

“Yes you are. She told me to come get you.”

“Mum wouldn’t give me away or she would have done it years ago.”

“Deborah’s not giving you away, she’s setting you free.”

“No. You talked her into this. I don’t care if I’m fifty before I leave home. As long as that thing’s living and breathing I’m not leaving her alone with it. I’m the only one keeping her safe.”

Derek realised how cleverly Cyril manipulated them into trapping themselves. He terrorised one to punish the other and in such a way that neither victim could see it. _He really is a devil._

Deborah must have anticipated a similar argument because she brought an old luggage case from her son’s room and dumped it at his feet. “Take your shit, your poofter boyfriend and get out!” she exclaimed angrily.

Archie called his mother’s bluff with a smile. “Yeah, funny Mum, put the bag back.”

“Darn you for knowing me so well. Please Archie? He won’t come after you if I stay.”

“So you reckon!”

“I promise that if he doesn’t find you after one week then I’m leaving too. He doesn’t know Derek from a bar of soap—and he’s not too familiar with soap lately. You’ve had Derek’s phone number committed to memory since he gave it to you so it isn’t written down anywhere. Every single one of your friends and their families will keep their mouths shut.”

“What if he follows me home from school?”

“Don’t go.”

“Hooray, an upside!” Archie cheered with both hands in the air and Derek laughed.

“I’ll telephone Harrington, Barrington whatever that Principal’s name is in the morning and ask him to send work home with Derek.”

“Boo!” Archie declared with an exaggerated frown and Derek laughed again. Deborah smiled at Archie and Derek wondered how anyone could believe she was the one abusing her son when her love and fear for him were blatant. He also wondered why she didn’t use that sniper voice to terrorise her son into leaving rather than affectionately reasoning with him.

“You’re old enough to leave home Archie love. What possible excuse can he make up this time to bring you back?”

“He won’t have to make one up. He’ll do something to you.”

“I’ll call every day while he’s at work so you know he hasn’t. Please baby, at least try to run away this time, for me?”

“I’ll never forgive you for this woman,” Archie said softly as he hugged his mother goodbye. Derek’s chest was choked by sorrow.

“Maybe not, but one day you’ll thank me.” Deborah kissed Archie’s forehead more than once. “I’m proud of you. I always have been.” She hugged her son as though she’d changed her mind about letting him go, then suddenly pushed him away and turned her back. “Get him out of here Derek. He never could stand seeing me cry.”

λ

Derek drove aimlessly for three quarters of an hour because Archie asked him to, and then said nothing else. He hadn’t even changed radio stations like he normally did.

“I hate you for making me do this.”

Derek tried not to believe the soft words that complemented the silence rather than breaking it. He reminded himself that Archie threw hurtful comments at others so they focused on their pain and failed to notice his.

“If he kills her, I’m going after him and making you watch.” He was so quiet it seemed as though his thoughts occurred in Derek’s head.

“Don’t say things like that.” Derek hoped he was exaggerating but couldn’t be sure. Most of the time he wondered why teachers feared his boyfriend. Right now he figured this would be why.

“You can write it all down and hand it in at school for extra credit, bet you’d get an A.”

“Stop it.”

“Take me back.”

“No.”

“Do you think by doing this you can make me normal like you? This shit is always in there Derek. It doesn’t go away just because I’m in a good mood.”

“It doesn’t go away because you won’t let it. It feeds you. Stop letting it feed you.”

“It **feeds** me?” Archie’s eyes probably shot gamma rays at pedestrians while he pondered the words. “Ever eaten from a bin Derek? Or soap, because there’s nothing left and you’re sick of eating other people’s garbage? Ever line up with other boys as pathetic as you wondering if that pervert cruising past will give you something to eat for letting him fuck you? My mother lets that arsehole spend most of our money keeping him doped up or passed out drunk because those are the only times he isn’t beating the shit out of us, or verbally tearing us to shreds.” He suddenly perked up and shifted around in his seat. “Here’s a jolly story for you. When I was five I got a bike for Christmas from Santa. ‘Come on Fuckwit, I’ll teach you how to ride it.’ That’s the nicest thing he’s ever said to me. He taught me to ride it for five blocks, to the pawn shop. Then sold it in front of me and offered to add me to the deal. ‘But then I’d have to give some of this back, so I guess I’m stuck with the ugly little shit.’ He laughed, stuffing the money in his wallet. ‘But it’s mine, Santa gave it-’”

Derek hit the brake in panic as Archie sharply backhanded the air between them.

“‘There **is** no Santa, stupid Fuckwit. This is **my** money. I’m not wasting it on you. If your whore mother wants to buy you shit she can get her own money, same way she got you.’ Not much nutrition in that Derek, but it’s all I’ve fucking got. Take me home.”

The way Archie managed to sound like a small child and then his father added an extra chill to the recount. Derek couldn’t say more than “Okay” without his voice cracking.

Archie was visibly satisfied with Derek’s compliance until he realised which home Derek was taking him to. He sat up straight. “I can’t stay with you. We’ll end up…They’ll catch us and kick me out. Then Mum won’t be able to find me. No.”

“You’re such a Mummy’s Boy.”

“Fuck you.”

“Jon’s got an extra bed. The Stewards won’t object to you. You won’t have to pretend you’re straight. I started telling him about us but then...”

“You told me, remember? Your olds and Wren’s must be the only people in the area who don’t know I’m a poof. You sure you trust me with **your** Jon though?”

“Where did this ‘my Jon’ rubbish start from? Andrew? He didn’t mean it like that.”

“True, but Andrew didn’t know you’re a poof. He didn’t know you fancy **your** Jon more than you fancy me. You want me to be more like him.”

 _So what if I do? It’s for your benefit. It’s not like I want Jon instead of you…do I?_ “No I don’t.”

“If you say so,” Archie shrugged and found the brash and abrasive radio station he liked. “I can handle being second best.”

“You aren’t second best.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that other boy you were drooling over in front of me, the ‘proper poof’. I’m third. Or are there others I don’t know about?”

Derek saw Archie’s playfully acidic teasing for what it was and led him upstairs to reassure him like no other boy had before. He rested his chin on Archie’s angel once he’d proved his point. “There’ll only ever be you.” He kissed Archie’s back and cuddled him closer. “You’re staying with me, where you belong. No further argument. Get dressed. We’ll pick up Jon and drop him off to his house then when my parents get home I’ll explain why you’re here.”

“So we can fuck?”

“I promised I would find a way to protect you. You’re here so I can keep that promise.” Derek kissed Archie seriously, then playfully. “Any fucking is incidental,” he added with a smile.

λ

Derek efficiently contained an unexpected burst of jealousy after seeing Jonathon slide down the hill on a makeshift toboggan with Scott, the college-age friend Derek thought of as Cat in the Hat. Derek, Andrew, Nigel and Jon used to slide down this hill. When they were fifteen Jonathon started making excuses not to join in and then he stopped coming here at all. Andrew’s attendance dwindled as a result and Derek and Nigel were never close enough to do things without the others. Derek had dubbed that the winter his childhood died. _This place was important to_ us _. Why didn’t you ask_ me _?_

Jon had said Stephanie and her girls would be coming too. Perhaps she decided the day was too cold. Archie sat on the car’s bonnet to watch and laughed when both young men fall off.

“We should do that Angel,” Archie suggested eagerly. “Ask Jon if we can have a go too.”

Derek considered it. One smart comment from Scott or Jon meant Derek could casually admit Archie is his sweetheart… His heart beat in his throat. _I’m going to do this. I can… I can’t_.

Archie greeted Scott with familiar cheek and offered his sympathies over Ronnie’s death, then made vulgar suggestions about where Jon should sit for the drive home when those sympathies were coldly rejected. Derek regretted bringing his rebellious boyfriend along and ordered him into the car. “How do you know Jon’s friend?” he asked Archie as Scott rode away on the motorbike they could have been learning to ride. _Is he one of those strangers you spontaneously snogged before we kissed? Is Scott the reason Jon asked what made people gay? Is Scott interested in Jonathon? Since when did I assume every male Archie talks to, is gay?_

“We’ve met once or twice. He has great taste in blokes.”

Derek stalled the car in his attempt to ignore the typical smartarse response, which prompted Archie to carry on even more and led to Jon asking why he was along in the first place.

“His mother thinks it best for him to leave home so he’s staying with me, if my parents approve.”

“You haven’t asked them yet? Jesus Derek. Your mother would have a fit if she knew you were **tutoring** a gay boy.”

Thankfully Archie was too busy defending himself to offer more cheek. Jonathon reluctantly agreed to provide back-up accommodation should Derek’s parents decline then reached for the radio dial. “Hang on,” Jon drawled. “Is this already on a modern radio station? Welcome to the 70s Derek,” he quipped while lightly tapping Derek’s thigh with the back of his knuckles.

“Finally, someone else in this car has taste! Mind cranking that up a tad, Jon?”

Derek groaned as Jon complied and his companions sang along to songs he’d never heard of. The three bickered and bantered in friendly fashion about nothing in particular until Jonathon got out. Archie immediately clambered into the front.

“Your Jon is brilliant.”

 _Thank goodness he didn’t say that while Jon was in the car, especially after the lick incident._ “He’s not my Jon, stop going on about it.”

Archie teased him with such a merrily mischievous smile that Derek laughed most of the way home. He regretted not speaking up earlier. Tobogganing with Jonathon would have shown his two favourites a different side to each other. They had enough in common to become friends. _If_ we _told him we’re a couple, he could see how we belong together and be happy for us instead of upset._ He imagined reaching for Archie’s hand as they told Jonathon they’re in love, the smile on his sweetheart’s face enough to show Archie deserved the nickname, and decided that’s how he would come out.

He simply needed a when.

18 – 20 January 1976

The Landon parents put Archie in Derek’s room since Bethany refused to remove her sewing equipment from what used to be the spare bedroom. Sue’s lower jaw hit the floor, rebounded off the kitchen tiles and collided loudly with the top. Archie gave Sue his most lecherous Weazl wink behind Bethany’s back. Derek wanted to smack his sweetheart’s sexy bum and tell him to behave but that would make their relationship obvious for all to see, so he kept both hands in his pockets and pretended not to notice. Bethany had the boys to fetch one of the camp beds from her sewing room and oversaw their efforts to ensure it was done with the least amount of fuss. Archie’s sexy bum was safe—for now.

Sue suffered repeated apoplexy during the first two days. Derek would have laughed at her if he wasn’t afraid she’d find the nerve to out their visitor and by extension her brother. Archie didn’t help matters with his grins and murmurs of “think your parents will mind if I jump under the shower with your brother? Save time and water. Of course, your brother might protest at my **intrusion**.”

It wasn’t as though they shared Derek’s bed. Not at night anyway, only when Derek came home from school during lunch. He only meant to pop in to make sure Archie was alright on Monday and spent the time making love to him instead.

On Tuesday Archie completed the provided schoolwork he felt like doing, read whatever he could get his hands on and tidied up their room until Derek called from the phone box outside the school to say he was coming home.

“Too late, I started without you,” his smart-arsed sweetheart replied. Thinking of what that might entail caused Derek to drive like an unlicensed loony, like Archie—who had a towel slung around freshly showered hips when Derek opened the door. He fucked his already naked boyfriend halfway up the stairs without bothering to do more than shove his pants down his thighs, then apologised with a deep kiss for leaving him to clean the sprog out of the carpet as he had to dash back to school for a Student Council meeting.

“I didn’t actually start without you,” Archie whispered across Derek’s room that night. “I spilled oven cleaner when you rang. Some of it splashed my shirt and I had to wash it off. That stuff’s noxious, glad Mum never bothered with it now.”

Derek considered reaching across the gap between the beds to hold Archie’s hand but was worried someone might walk past and see. “You’re not a house slave.”

“Your mother thinks I’m scum. This way I can prove her wrong.”

“Try looking like a normal person…”

Archie rolled over to face the wall.

“Sweetheart,” Derek began to apologise quietly.

“Leave me alone.” He also rebuked Derek’s second attempt before turning on his stomach to glare at Derek. “Are you with me because I’m the only fag you know?” he asked in an indignant whisper.

“I wanted to be with you before I knew you were gay, remember?” Derek assured him softly.

Archie whispered “Goodnight Angel” with a tired smile and settled into his covers.

Derek was tempted to cross the room and kiss him goodnight, but knew he wouldn’t stop at that. Instead he whispered back. “Sweet dreams Sweetheart.”

They didn’t normally talk once in their separate beds, and never kissed goodnight or good morning. It was too risky. Derek naively thought having Archie here would be like an extended sleepover at Jonathon’s—comfortable, casual and friendly. But it wasn’t. Derek never knew what to say or how to behave without exposing their relationship. He watched Archie until he fell asleep and hoped it would get easier.

21 January 1976

Sue behaved like a sealed tin under pressure before spraying the proverbial beans across the kitchen on the fourth night of Archie’s stay. “Weazl’s gay!” she declared while helping their mother wash dishes.

“He never seems very happy to me dear.”

Sue stared silently. Her entire strategy must have depended upon the impact of that initial pronouncement. Derek almost wet himself containing his laughter until he relayed what he overheard to Archie.

“Might be time to head over to Steward’s,” Archie suggested, suddenly nervous about getting caught.

 _Yet you didn’t need persuading to get into my parents’ bed earlier today. Remember how much noise we made as we fucked all over that thing? Those joints creaked like a distressed sailing ship in a maelstrom. What about how loudly you bossed me around, told me how sexy I am, cried out ‘Fuck me, oh Angel yeah pound that gorgeously fat dick deep into my arsehole, hard as you can Angel, fuck me’?_ “You’re the one telling my sister you think of me while pulling your chain.” _and giving me a perpetual hard on._

“I’m just giving my audience the show she wants. That’s why people like me Landon, I’m fun!”

“Are you ever,” Derek kissed him and put a hand up Archie’s shirt before remembering how much relied on their secrecy. Having him so close was confusing.

Archie silently mouthed ‘I love you’ before hurrying downstairs to ask for more chores to keep him distracted. Derek whispered it in return, but his voice was too quiet and his Sweetheart’s back was already turned. One day he’d say it loud enough for Archie to hear.

λ

The young Landons were permitted to watch evening television once the dishes had been done, allowing their parents to enjoy a quiet cup of tea in the kitchen. Archie must have learned from today’s newspaper that his heart throb David Attenborough had a program on tonight because he suddenly changed the channel from the program Sue was watching. Derek was relieved. Why were women on television such vindictive shrews?

“Change that back!” commanded Sue.

“That other show was shite. At least if you watch this you’ll learn something.”

“Change it back or I’ll tell my parents how ardently you lust after Derek,” Sue threatened in a deceitfully sweet voice. Derek concluded all women were shrews and television programs merely reflected that truth.

“What do you think will happen then little girl?” Archie asked calmly. “Your parents will take one look at me then turn straight to your brother and wonder: Is he? Are they? Does he wait until we were asleep to fuck our son’s brains out night after night? For the record, no I don’t. He won’t let me. But that won’t matter to them because once that thought is in there it will never leave. See, you’re wondering now aren’t you, were those noises really just one of us rolling over or…?”

“Stop it Archie.” Derek didn’t say it to prevent his boyfriend freaking his sister out, but because the way he talked made Derek uncomfortably hard. He wanted to drag Archie upstairs under the pretence of giving him a stern talking to only to have him give Derek head instead. _Oh god._ The more he tried not to think about doing that the more he thought about it. Archie must know because he boldly held Derek’s gaze.

“Make me.”

He wanted to. Archie wanted him to.

Whoever invented cuckolding little sisters deserved to be shot.

“Chicken shit,” Archie insulted him quietly then addressed Sue without taking his eyes from Derek. “Watch what you want.”

He left the room. Derek assumed he’d gone upstairs. Derek hoped he’d gone upstairs because Derek wanted him upstairs, on his knees and sucking Derek off. Derek followed him. He didn’t head upstairs but to the laundry. _That could work_. No one would think to look for either of them in there until they were done. Derek was so hard it wouldn’t take long. Archie took his clean clothes from the airing rack and folded them into a neat pile on the washing machine. He refused to let Mrs Landon clean them so Derek wasn’t concerned until he began picking up items that hadn’t had time to dry.

“What are you doing?” Derek asked.

“Going home,” Archie said curtly.

“No you aren’t. Look at me.”

“Stop telling me what to do.”

“Alright then, why are you going?”

Archie refolded the same item twice before scrunching it as he replied. “This is worse than at school. You’re my boyfriend when you sneak home to fuck me but the rest of the time I have to watch you play straight while I pretend to be someone else so your family don’t discover a) you’re bent and b) you bend me over their furniture and fuck me brainless whenever they’re not looking. Is this is how it’s going to be when you’re at university?”

“You want me to fuck you on the kitchen table while my parents are in there? Let’s go. Of course it isn’t going to be like this!”

“Yeah, well I think it is.”

Derek snatched the damp clothing from Archie’s hand and threw it on the floor.

“What’d you do that for? Now I have to wash it again!”

Derek trod on it as Archie reached for it. They scowled at each other until Archie surrendered and leaned back against the washing machine with his arms folded as tightly as his clothes. He was such a neat freak that Derek wondered why he spent so much energy looking messy. Every appearance of chaos was carefully planned out and arranged in Archie’s head as he brushed his teeth the night before and he got ferociously cranky if it didn’t work out precisely the way he pictured it. Derek learned not to laugh after the first tantrum but still found it funny. Living with Archie wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever was.

“It isn’t going to be like that. I’m going to kiss you goodbye before I go to lectures, kiss you hello when I return, wrap my legs around you as we sit on the couch watching television, hold your hand as we walk to the corner shop before breakfast because we’re out of milk again. There’ll be other fun in between of course,” Derek added with a hopeful, cheeky smile.

“Of course.” Archie’s return smile wasn’t genuine.

“You still don’t believe me?”

Archie shook his head without looking at Derek then looked up with angry eyes. “Tell Jon and I’ll believe you.”

“I tried.”

“Once, a week ago! Have you tried since?”

“He’s been messed up.” _So have I._ “Sweetheart, you have no idea…”

“No Derek, you have no idea. You have no idea what it’s like to be ignored day in and day out by your boyfriend unless you’re getting him off. **Jon** talks to me more than you do. You also have no idea what it’s like to wonder if your boyfriend’s been lying to everyone else for six months, or only lying to you!” Archie’s accusation rang through the laundry and lingered as subdued echoes.

“I’m not lying to you.” Derek answered softly as he stepped in slowly but surely, placed both hands on the washing machine either side of his boyfriend and kissed his doubts away. Archie resisted and then kissed back, bringing his hands to Derek’s hips. Derek pressed against him as their tongues met.

“Holy cow!” Sue must have come to see what the noise was about.

Archie dragged her in with one hand while the other flicked the knife in his pocket open. He touched her face with the tip of the blade while he kicked the door closed. “Remember that talk we had earlier about telling tales? Don’t nod, you’ll cut yourself. Just say ‘yes Mr Weazl Sir’.”

“Let go of her.” Derek’s command wasn’t the bold order it should have been, more of a meek suggestion. _God, I really am a chicken shit._

Archie flicked the knife closed and into his pocket quick as a blink but he kept hold of Sue. “It’s your lying arse I’m protecting Angel. I don’t have anything to lose when the truth comes out. Now, as I said earlier, I am going home. Any objections?” Derek and Sue shook their heads and Archie let her go. “Didn’t think so. Do me a favour **_love_** and ask Donk to bring the van around. I don’t want you trying to fuck me again on the way home.” He picked up his clothes, except for the item caught under Derek’s foot, and went upstairs.

“Are you? Did you really?” Sue’s revulsion was obvious.

“No. He’s just bullshitting because I called him an ungrateful arse.”

“You were kissing.”

“No. He tried it on to cause trouble. You walked in before I could get away.”

“He smells like you since he’s been staying here.”

 _What?_ Had their parents noticed too? “We share a room. Aftershave wasn’t the first thing on his mother’s mind when she packed his bag so he’s been using mine.” _All true, nothing to do with sex, not a problem._

“He’s horrible,” Sue murmured with a shudder.

Derek nodded mutely. He hoped Sue was too scared to ask further questions because he was too scared to answer.

22 January 1976

Derek was so relieved to see Archie in one piece at school the next day that he forgot his boyfriend was an utter arsehole. The feeling did not appear to be mutual when Derek made a polite enquiry as to how things stood at home.

“Fuck off Landon.”

Archie still wore the ear stud Derek gave him for Christmas and frequently looked his way so Derek didn’t take it to heart. He conceded that while Archie had over-reacted to the situation he did have a point. Derek never considered how his self-preserving behaviour appeared from Archie’s perspective. Despite the possibility of having his nuts sliced off, Derek continued trying to speak to him throughout the day. They needed to be together. His persistence paid off and the make-up sex in the back of Derek’s car after school was incredible. Archie had never ridden him so hard. It was almost aggressive. His hands pressed against the ceiling of the car, dimpling and hooking the roof lining with his nails, challenging Derek to keep up with scalding eyes, snarled profanities and bucking, rolling, swivelling hips. Derek met every demand his partner made and Archie surprised them both with the intensity of his climax as a jet of cum hit the side of Derek’s face, his neck, chest and the curtain strung over the rear windows to provide privacy. _Centrefold porn from one of those magazines, people would fantasise over this and wank._

“God Sweetheart,” Derek exclaimed as he ejaculated deep inside Archie. “Most amazing, so perfect, you really are. I love all the ways you drive me crazy.” _Look at you now, all red-faced and sweaty, balanced perfectly on my cock._ “Such a sexy sweetheart,” Derek moaned with profound satisfaction.

“You’re on your last legs Landon. Don’t care how gifted you are at sucking cock and fucking arse. You asked me to be your boyfriend Derek, not a fucking fuck pillow.”

Derek found that unfair considering the mere existence of Archie Tanner made him hard and that Archie currently had an arse full of cock. Still, Derek loved him more than ever so he promised that they’d keep their clothes on and their hands to themselves the next time they were alone together. “It can’t be entirely my fault that I get distracted by my lusciously sexy boyfriend, can it?” he asked with a smile as he walked his fingers up Archie’s thighs.

Archie returned Derek’s smile and linked their fingers together. “I guess not.” He leaned forward to kiss Derek’s mouth and Derek’s cock slid free from Archie’s arse. Derek rather hoped the condom would remain stuck inside so they wouldn’t have to use them anymore—‘ _You’ve had my spunk inside you now, so what’s the point?’_ —but alas it stayed on. Archie touched his cum drying on Derek’s face and neck. “That truly was amazing though, eh?” he asked with a grin. “And you are absolutely **incredible** at fucking arse and sucking cock. Don’t ever let me tell you otherwise, no matter how shitty I am. Okay?”

“Whatever you want Sweetheart,” Derek said sincerely. He expected Archie to tell him he loved him, what with the expression on his sweetheart’s freckled face and the most fantastic love they’d ever made, but he didn’t. “I…” _love you._ Derek swallowed to dislodge the words that kept getting stuck in his throat but they wouldn’t budge. “Don’t give up on us just because we hit a few particularly nasty bumps in a row. Please?” Derek used his eyes and a tender touch to say what his voice couldn’t.

Archie seemed to get the message because he nodded and whispered “love you too Angel” before leaving Derek’s lap to get his pants.

23 January 1976

Kennelly’s van developed a serious mechanical problem and Arse had an upcoming gig away from their usual haunt. Derek agreed to take their gear in his vehicle so he and Archie could spend some non-sex, argument-free boyfriend time together. That was the plan anyway. Who knew what they’d find to almost break up about.

Derek asked how Deborah had survived without her son and learned that not only did she cop a hiding because Archie left but they both received a bigger one when he returned.

“I’m considering staying forever just to piss him off.” Then Archie asked how Sue was doing as Derek helped the band set up onstage.

“Sue’s determined to convince her friends you’re a sadistic arsehole and not worth their efforts to turn you straight.”

“So some good came out of it then. You lied to her after I left didn’t you?”

“Yes. See? I lie to everyone else but not to you.”

Derek’s gamble paid off and Archie laughed that captivating laugh before kissing him with a smile. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

Derek was surprised to see Vincent checking over the band’s playlist during sound check. “I prefer the arrangement you showed me at your last rehearsal. ‘Not Beeping You’ is a better closing number than ‘Wife Beater Anthem’. Make that the third one in and end the show on a high note. You want to boost your audience, not encourage a mass suicide in the car park. You don’t always have to open with ‘Shadow’.”

“We don’t, sometimes that’s the closer depending on where and what time we’re on.” Archie sat against a table, a bundle of strategized mess next to the meticulously dressed much older man. Hazel eyes darted from paper, to stage and back, occasionally lighting on Derek with his paradoxically shy smile. “We’re booked up every weekend until after Easter. Mostly short, early gigs, not like tonight. For those we plan to open with‘Not Fucking You’ and close with ‘Shadow’. The middle changes night by night, but those two are always in there due to popular demand. Valentine’s at the _So-So_ is looking huge. Keith has asked us to do a double set so we have to work over those new pieces, maybe throw in a couple of covers to pad it out. The Peacock boys gave us a list of requests for their fundraiser concert, which sold out so fast we’ve had enquiries from brother community centres.”

“Excellent.” Vincent beamed proudly at his punk investment and Archie basked quite happily in his mentor’s praise. “In regards to that sample poster you procured during the summer,” Vincent began, only to be interrupted by Archie calling out to Donk that he’d need the blue light centre tonight because red would wash out the main colours in his hair and outfit.

“Sorry Vincent, you were saying?”

Seeing Archie like this made it easy for Derek to forget the horrifying way he’d treated Sue. He had the capacity to be so much more than a savvy hooligan and Derek aimed to help him fulfil that potential; remove the sharpest edges, turn down the volume, add more polish.

“Still no luck tracking your artist I’m afraid. If only he signed his name to his creation. To think of such extraordinary talent festering away in a government school, horrifying! You are stuck with your friend’s offerings until we find someone suitable.”

“You’re looking for Glam Boy?” Derek asked Archie once Vincent left. The dapper old fop may sponsor the band and approve of the influence they had within the gay community, but he found the music itself brash and obnoxious. Derek shared his opinion.

Archie nodded, missing the unspoken ‘are you chasing after him to replace me, because I doubt he’ll say no’. “Vincent’s partner Christian wants Glam to make promotional postcards for his amateur theatre company. Plus, they’re willing to subsidise costs if we can convince him to do our merchandise. Promotional material like that could see Arse go national.”

“For a punk who’s eaten out of bins you know some influential people.”

“My life has been blessed by many Angels.” Archie put his hands on Derek’s hips and pulled him in for a three minute snog. “Are you sticking around?”

“I am now.” Although he didn’t actually join the crowd and watch his boyfriend perform. Derek waited in the obscure little tea and book shop across the street and ignored the local poet giving a reading in favour of sampling the various teas and browsing through the shelves. He found a tiny book containing all male erotica which he managed to finish before the gig across the road so he bought it for Archie. The man at the counter didn’t blink an eye and thoughtfully wrapped it in brown paper. Derek gave him a small smile of gratitude with the payment for the book and the man nodded subtly in return.

Derek dropped Archie off after his band mates and the gear. “Before you go,” Derek took the parcel and a spare deodorant from the glove box and gave them to him. “After you left, Sue said, we smelled the same.” Derek felt like an idiot until he saw the stud shining in his sweetheart’s ear. He touched it tenderly. “As alarming as it was at the time, I liked it.”

“People might notice.” Archie sat poised on the edge of sheer bliss and anger. He knew this posed a problem for Derek and clearly hoped he wouldn’t change his mind.

“I know,” _but that’s easily explained and better than someone noticing I smell of you,_ “slowly marking my territory.” The spoken truths eased his conscience and earned him a kiss goodbye so potent it summoned those words he desperately needed to say. But emotion struck him mute once again.

24 January – 5 February 1976

They spent weekday afternoons and Friday evening together while Deborah attended the new adult learning centre. Cyril made her go because the current welfare program would pay her to study. She let him think he was making her go so he didn’t know she enjoyed it. Derek concluded that Archie’s cunning wasn’t inherited from his father.

Weekdays were spent making out and more in Archie’s room or Derek’s car. Friday nights at Arse gigs included post-performance sex. Saturdays were devoted to family or friends with Sundays during Mass spent fucking up a storm in Derek’s bed.

Derek found a burn mark on Archie’s neck when he tilted his sweetheart’s head in order to leave a love-bite after coming in his arse. “Did cock-cheese do this to you? Is it because of me?”

“Forget it. Bite me.”

“Not if he’ll hurt you because of it.”

“He always bashes or burns me after we’ve been together but that doesn’t stop me wanting it. Bite me every time we get to fresh prove we won’t be beaten.”

Derek did.

6 February 1976

Dreams were better than reality. Derek didn’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing or having his boyfriend’s opinions yelled in his face. There was no need for lubrication, condoms or avoiding discovery, they could just fuck. If cock-cheese caught them at it Derek could backhand him harder than he hit Archie and haul his naked sweetheart to the car, where he’d give Archie his shirt to wear as they drove, hard, exposed and high on potential freedom. They might stop to release some tension or wait until they reached Derek’s house and finish fucking where they please, usually on the couch but sometimes in bed. His favourite featured doing it on the bonnet of his car while it was parked in the driveway, but he only had that dream once. _I love him,_ dream Derek told his startled parents when they saw Archie riding his lap wearing nothing but his sprog-soaked shirt, _and_ _we’ll always be together._ Archie called him Angel then kissed him in a manner that true angels envied. Everything else disappeared as they fucked some more.

Archie was always naked in these fantasies, with his back to any witnesses so they saw the tattoo in all its glory; heard him call out _Fuck me Angel_ and knew without a doubt who Archie belonged to. Everyone knew. Sometimes Derek woke with limbs buzzing, hard-on raging, and determined to be caught deep down Archie’s throat or embedded in his arse. He wouldn’t stop either. Make the intruders watch them come as they fucked harder than before.

He used to find that word obscene. Fuck. But that was before Archie showed him what it meant. Now Derek thought, said, and did it all the time. Archie’s laugh echoed along a school corridor and the word that sprang to mind wasn’t sweetheart, Archie, or boyfriend. It was _Fuck **.**_

7 February 1976

The oldest member of the Captains Bench turned eighteen and the central quartet gathered to celebrate before the official party with a simple drinking game in the Fitzgibbon’s wood shed. They sat in random positions around the alcohol and took turns naming an action or event. Those with experience of said event took a drink. No eliminations ensured maximum inebriation for all.

Every challenge of an intimate nature was ambiguously worded so Derek was able to get completely sloshed while being completely honest. Nigel was first to cut a path into naughtier territory with “Basic touch up” and all four friends drank.

“Nipple suction, licking sufficient,” Jonathon edged across the line. Andrew and Derek drank.

“Had a blow job,” Andrew offered and Derek drank with him.

“Given oral,” Derek phrased it carefully and was surprised to be the only one drinking.

Jonathon clapped him on the back and raised his drink. “Head Boy!” he toasted. The others repeated “Head Boy” and drank after Jonathon. Derek’s chuckle ended in a snort.

“Manual stimulation,” bragged Nigel. They all drank.

Jonathon took it a step closer with “Mutual manual stimulation” and laughed at Nigel for being the only one not drinking.

“Mutual manual stimulation to orgasm for one or both parties, two drinks for both,” Andrew dared. His eyes widened as Derek took two drinks to his one.

“Any of the above at their house,” Derek said and drank with Nigel who insisted on one for each.

“Public touch up: tit, arse, any form of grope as long as it was witnessed by a third party,” Nigel said and took a long drink. The others showed surprise when Derek sat out the round.

“Modest lassies for Mr Landon, we were starting to think you preferred tarts.”

“M’ sweetheart’s not tart,” Derek insisted emphatically and realised he was close to dangerously drunk. He wondered how to bring the game to an end before he embarrassed himself.

“ _Sweetheart_?” asked Andrew with a hint of disdain. “How long have you been together?”

Jonathon answered on Derek’s behalf. “Since the summer, remember? Sweetheart’s the reason Derek stayed behind. Any of the previously mentioned pleasures in your own home,” he challenged before Nigel began to comment.

“One for each?” Andrew asked and Jonathon shrugged as his lips locked seductively around his bottle.

Derek wasn’t aware of how much he drank as he stared at Jonathon, only of how badly he suddenly envied that brown glass. _Fuck you’ve got a sexy mouth Jon, matches your sexy arse._ _Wrap them both around_ me _like that._ Those weren’t appropriate thoughts for a young man with a boyfriend to be thinking! Derek shook his head in an effort to dislodge them and became quite dizzy.

“Toad in the hole!” Andrew exclaimed into an inexplicably heavy silence and causing confusion to them all.

“Are we ordering breakfast? Bacon and eggs with baked beans thank you Mistress,” quipped Nigel.

“All the way you fool,” Andrew declared with a tawdry mime. “Get that cock in there. Two for simultaneous virginity exchange plus a bonus drink per repeat performance, should there be any.”

Derek grabbed another bottle, which he almost dropped. He put the rapidly half empty second bottle between his knees in order to double check the count using all his fingers, mumbling to himself the where and how of each encounter, grinning wickedly at his favourites. He stopped tallying when he realised they were all staring at him. _This i-n’t good, is it?_ _Bugger! Good thin’ they didn’ ask that one, eh? Hee-_ hee _! M-be am a bit pissed…_

His uneven thought trail was broken by Jonathon getting unevenly to his feet and tapping his bottle with a piece of kindling. “I know we gathered with the purpose of ushering young Andrew to the world of men but we must take the time now to acknowledge the only true man among us. Get up Derek you drunken sod. May your rampantly horny sweetheart never fall pregnant,” Jonathon began.

“Or give you crabs…” Nigel continued before Derek could respond to Jonathon’s blessing.

“Or develop unsightly cold sores,” Andrew concluded. Derek wondered if perhaps that’s why Andrew didn’t drink with him this last round. Or had he? Derek didn’t feel as chipper as he had a moment ago.

“To Derek, the man I wish I was!” Jonathon toasted again. Nigel and Andrew crowed like cockerels then stomped and hooted like the punks they despised at an Arse performance.

The wood shed decided to become a planet unto itself and began spinning on its axis. The alcohol and kerosene lamp light heightened the surreal vertigo. Derek sank back onto his supportive stump as Andrew and Nigel knelt in front of him like pilgrims before a wise man. Shadows flitted across their faces, churning Derek’s stomach. He tilted to the left and fell while vomiting on the dirt floor.

“Taxi!” called Andrew and staggered away with a finger in the air.

Nigel became afflicted with sympathy retching and crawled outside to spew.

Jonathon helped Derek to his knees, then his feet, then out into the cold night air and around their vomiting friend. “Methinks it time to get thee into bed.”

“Mm, bed with bestiest spunky sex friend. What? Sexy spunk? Same thing in end. Not my end. Arshie’s end, he can’t get pregnant there, eh?” Derek’s second snort of laughter made him vomit again. Booze and bile painted one side of Jonathon’s shoe.

“Dignity thy name is Derek. What would your sweetheart think of you now?”

“Cock-cheese! Sorry Sweetheart. Don’t dump-me-gen. Love, love you.” He tried to kiss his sweetheart then looked at Jonathon in alarm. “Did-I justell-Arshie-or Jon? De-set spunkiest friend-I-got so why not, eh? Mizyer…mizuhb…Y’ miserable- **shit** Arshie! Ne’er good-nuff am I?” Derek sobbed before he surrendered to the fuzzy dizziness and let his dead-set-spunky hero take him inside…

8 February 1976

Nigel and Andrew were drawing paisley designs on Derek’s face with pen when he woke up in the wine cellar converted specifically for adolescent sleepovers. He barely had the co-ordination to swat the chortling pair away. His eyes, mouth and brain felt grainy.

“Where’s Jon?” he asked blurrily as he slumped back onto the lumpy cushion he’d used for a pillow and burrowed under the woollen blankets for protection. “Why isn’t he saving me from you pests?”

“Your Jon went home early,” said Nigel.

“Why?”

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Andrew admitted sheepishly before Nigel shared what little he knew.

“Drew tripped over me while I was busy vomiting and stumbled to the house. Then he came back out with his sleeping bag and insisted we spend the night outside because you and Jon were having a verbal stoush in the shower…”

“What?” Derek sat up in alarm. His stomach churned from more than the hangover. Nigel passed him a bucket but he didn’t need it.

“You were vomiting everywhere and couldn’t stand up without assistance the last time I saw you outside so I assumed Jon ran you a shower. He came out looking a tad miffed, insisted he was going home, and then he buggered off. And by a tad miffed I mean completely ticked, like that day he insisted on sitting with the freaks. Can’t say I blame him. You were a sobbing ball of upchuck when I went in to check on you.”

“What did he say?” _What did_ I _say?_

“Had enough, going home, you deal with it. He yelled at you a bit before that but I couldn’t hear clearly.”

“Jesus Derek, did you…? Are you shagging his girlfriend or something?” Andrew asked with wide eyes.

“No.” Derek remembered nothing that followed ‘toad in the hole’ and asked to telephone Jon. Jonathon merely complained about being woken up before saying goodbye, leaving Derek with more questions than he started with. Why was Jon sleeping this late if he left early? Why had he left? What the hell was going on with him? Had Derek confided and been rejected? Were they still friends?

Hopefully sobriety would bring answers.

9 February 1976

Discussion at the Captains Bench turned to the potential for scoring tit, and preferably head, on Valentine’s Day.

Andrew planned to join Derek in the serial ‘toad in the hole’ club with Head Girl, Lisa Gannet, who he insisted was most worthy of her title. _Funny, I’ve heard the same said of me,_ Derek thought without a visible trace of such a thought entering his mind. Nigel mimed opening a writing pad and licking a nib then sat poised to mime writing.

“So, Casanova,” he said to Derek. “How do you and your sweetheart intend to celebrate this day of sanctified romance?”

“With sex obviously,” Jonathon responded boisterously on Derek’s behalf then turned to him and scoffed. “You can’t really be getting it as often as you say.”

“I play it down to protect your flaccid ego my friend,” boasted Derek with a grin. He wasn’t sure how, or what, things currently stood between them and decided to act like the weekend never happened.

“Harsh!”

“True nonetheless.”

“Eh-hem,” Nigel interrupted. “Mr Landon, do reveal your scheme for successfully sweeping your lady off her feet and onto your knob.”

Derek deftly avoided gender specifics with his response. “Alas Mr Inman, the only sweeping likely to occur that evening involves the floors of the _So-So_ _,_ as my sweetest of hearts will be working.”

“Surely such a barrier cannot stall the all-conquering cock of our hero! Are you not the same Derek Landon who plucked the virginity of said ‘sweetest of hearts’—I’m using that phrase by the way, no wonder you get it so often, romantic fool—whilst the maiden’s mother slept in the next room at the passing of the years from last to this?” Jonathon declared in familiar pompous fashion.

“No, we were alone in the house until Daddy Dearest came home. You know that. But in answer to Nigel’s question: I may not divulge my strategy lest it fails and I appear a complete tit unto my peers.”

“Too late for that my friend,” Andrew said with a wink as the quartet chuckled.

“How are we ever going to get laid if you won’t tell us how you lay your trap, seduce your tart, woo your woman?” protested Jonathon. He sounded more like his usual, irreverent self as the conversation progressed. Maybe excessive vomiting was the only cause of distress after all.

Derek bit into his sandwich with a lecherous wink and said nothing. His plan was simple: bring Archie something to eat during his scheduled break then do him in the back of the car when the show was finished. Derek cleared it out once Donk’s van was back on the road and had already folded the seats down and put in extra blankets especially. The sight of similar station wagons with curtains at the back windows for privacy gave him the idea. His friends laughed and nicknamed his car The Hearse as a result, but soon recognised his brilliance after he scored in it without the usual inconvenience of finding somewhere remote. He could park anywhere, even across the road from Archie’s house, and fuck his sweetheart’s perfectly freckled arse without worrying about climbing through windows wearing nothing but a Johnnie because cock-cheese came home early. He wouldn’t mind having an undress rehearsal this afternoon.

A kick to the patella broke through his reverie and Derek realised he’d been staring at Archie while imagining him naked and moving beneath him, remembering some of the sounds they made and wondering whether the vehicle shook whenever they played in it before.

Another kick—he’d begun staring again, and had developed a hard on.

“What are you ogling Weazl for?” Jonathon asked with suspicion.

“Why did he do that to his hair? It’s ridiculous!” _He’s perfect without it._ “Why didn’t he get it cut?” _like I tell him to._

“Stare off!” Donk hollered at Derek, causing Archie to look up. Derek flipped Donk off and Archie smiled briefly, a glimpse of heaven.

“I don’t understand that lot.” Nigel shook his head at Archie’s unpredictably mild response.

Derek snappily defended his lover’s social set. “Maybe you should look beyond the supply of free porn and get to know them.”

“It’s definitely one of them isn’t it, your sweetheart?” Jonathon asked.

“It certainly is.” Apparently Derek’s penis had gone from doing the thinking to doing the talking now; it’d probably ask to borrow the car next. Still, Cheng and Archie’s reaction to his comments led Derek to congratulate his bold penis.

“You’re probably shagging the one I want. That’s why you won’t tell me who it is.”

Derek had to laugh at that. He was pretty sure who Jon fancied now. “Stephanie Moody is not my type, I promise you that. I’ll give you one clue though Jonathon: left—nipple—pierced.”

“You evil bastard! I know that isn’t Steph. Is it Claire?”

“I’m not telling you. How do you know it isn’t-?”

“I’m not telling you. Adele?”

“Not telling you.”

“Claudia?”

“Not telling.”

“Landon’s bonking Kennelly!” Jonathon exclaimed loudly.

Members of the Captains Bench and Wild Wood laughed with him, all but one. Donk threatened to feed Jon’s nuts to the rats awaiting dissection.

“So what?” Jon retorted harshly. “It’s not as though I need them.”

The Wild Wood seemed to know what that was about. Stephanie began to step toward him but he told her to piss off. Derek put a hand on Jon’s elbow as the two groups prepared to face off. “Jon,” he began but had to stop there. He had no idea what to say to make this right because he didn’t know what was wrong. They stared silently at each other. Jon took hold of Derek’s sleeve between finger and thumb and tugged. Derek removed his hand and reflexively rubbed it on his jeans as Jon nodded an apology to Steph. She handed Jon his bag then took hold of his hand with both of hers and leaned against his arm, murmuring fervently as they walked away. The entire Captains Bench stared at the incongruous scene.

“What in hellfire’s name have you done to your Jon?” Nigel asked in a mystified tenor.

“Not my Jon,” Derek replied automatically. “Not anymore,” he added quietly—sadly.

The bell sounded.

“He’s their friend now instead of ours,” Andrew muttered and brusquely scooped his bag onto one shoulder.

Epiphany struck. “Not so much theirs as hers,” Derek told Andrew. “I think they want to be more than friends but…” _Stephanie already had twins._

Andrew’s shoulders drooped and he let the strap of his bag slip into his hand as he groaned at the sky. “Of course! He was the only one of us still sober Saturday night and that ‘never get pregnant’ comment.” Andrew paused and misunderstanding Derek’s surprise leaned in to whisper. “Pervert teacher at her previous school knocked her up now she feels a need to hide among those nutters, acting like a dyke. Stephanie was at Jon’s house with her daughters while I was there the week after his friend’s funeral but I didn’t think… His balls must be like lead! Best avoid sex talk in front of Jonathon given the circumstances, agreed?”

Derek nodded eagerly.

Andrew nodded in approval and hoisted his bag back into place. “Hopefully he’ll come back to us—and bring his forbidden princess with him.”

“Excuse me Mr Fitzgibbon, but it sounds like you actually like someone from the Wild Wood.” Derek couldn’t help teasing him after his persistent derision.

“That creep took advantage of an underage girl Derek. She’s been labelled untouchable because of **him**. How is that fair?”

“It’s possible that they all have similar stories Drew.”

“Like your mysterious sweetheart?” Andrew asked with an enquiring glance toward the slowly scattering Wild Wood.

“Indeed Doctor Watson.”

Archie strode past and grinned without looking directly at Derek. Derek’s heart swelled to zeppelin proportions.

One step closer to being acknowledged as a couple; a small step but significant enough for Archie to tell Derek he loved him after school. “You’re getting ready to tell them. I saw you think about it. Sorry for the way I took off from your parents’ house. Angel…”

They both felt guilty about that night. A kiss from Derek prevented the potential argument over who was to blame and the undress rehearsal in the back of his car began.

10 – 12 February 1976

Kennelly’s van had something else wrong with it—again. Derek wondered aloud if it had ever been in good repair. He quietly wondered if other members of Arse preferred using Derek’s car to get to gigs as much as Archie did. Archie certainly enjoyed driving it. Derek had been taking his boyfriend out on the back roads every day so Archie could practice. He was still ‘pretty crap’ as Archie described his abilities but the adrenaline injected by his near misses always led to incredible sex in the back, or even the front, before Derek drove home.

Lying on his back and bouncing Archie around on top of him had become Derek’s favourite leisure activity. Forget tutoring, chess and tennis, those were now handy euphemisms for what he really did every afternoon.

Unfortunately, being the Arse vehicle meant waiting through the performances. Those clubs, these crowds, and that din were not Derek’s scene at all. The upside was Archie off his face from the natural high. Even that ridiculous hair couldn’t distract Derek’s attention from the lightning in his eyes. Archie was pure, raw and Derek’s for the taking: once on the bonnet of a stranger’s car because they couldn’t remember where Derek’s was parked. Archie stopped wearing jeans onstage, favouring a mock kilt Cheng’s girl made from tartan chair upholstery fabric, so they didn’t have to wait as long to fuck once he’s off. “Plus I like the colours,” Archie grinned the first time they explored the easy access features.

He let Derek treat him like a complete harlot unless they were in his room. Then things happened quietly and subtlety was important in case Deborah’s class finished early or Cyril the cock-cheese came home unexpectedly. Derek loved Archie both ways because the things he treasured about his sweetheart remained the same regardless of where they were, what they did, or how they did it. He agreed to drive them to the wretched club on Valentine’s Day for that reason. He just had to bundle the blankets into a corner and set it all up again once the equipment had been taken out. He refused to relinquish his seductive scheme simply because the children were tagging along.

13 February 1976

“You have tonight off, don’t you?” Derek asked as he followed Archie into the house with both eyes focused on the sexily denim-clad arse of his boyfriend. His school bag dangled from one shoulder although the sessions at Archie’s haven’t involved tutoring for weeks.

“Sort of, the owner of _Maggie’s_ found out we’re ‘that poofter band’ and gave us the boot. I was going to head to Cheng’s and do some…” Archie’s spine sagged as Derek’s lips pressed against the back of his neck. Derek wrapped one arm around Archie’s chest and the other across his hips to haul him close. “…writing because my gear’s…” Derek distracted him further by mouthing along his neck, pushing suggestively against his backside and rubbing a wrist over Archie’s fly. “Jesus, Angel.” Archie turned his head so their mouths met, held Derek’s hand at the front of his jeans and ground his arse against Derek’s hard-on. “Am I that irresistible?”

“Yes. I love the taste of you when we kiss. Of your cock,” Derek gave it a squeeze for emphasis, “so wonderful in my mouth. I love the feel of you inside, when you’re wrapped around me.”

“We’re not going bare.”

Derek wanted to try felching and other cum-play activities featured in the erotic pamphlet he gave to Archie. They were all impossible when condoms were involved. “Don’t you want to know what I feel like, my cum filling **you** instead of-?”

“When we live together we’ll go bare.”

“There’s no-one but you.”

“It’s the principle.”

Derek snorted a blunt laugh into Archie’s shoulder. “Who’s going to know?”

“Cock-cheese knows.” Archie relaxed his grip on Derek’s hand and spoke to the ground. “I haven’t figured out how, but he always knows when you properly fuck me. That’s the only thing that sets him off lately. Must be the smile you put on my face.”

Fear strangled Derek’s erection and Archie’s cheeky, sexy humour couldn’t bring it back. “I’ll take you to Cheng’s.”

“Fuck me first? I promise to frown afterwards.” They both chuckled as Derek’s cock responded to Archie’s invitation. “Man, I really **am** that irresistible.”

“Crossing the quadrangle, bringing you to my house and giving you my virginity isn’t proof enough? Perhaps we should go to your room so I can provide further evidence.”

They knelt together on Archie’s mattress and unfastened each other’s clothes. Shirts stayed on in case they needed to dress in a hurry. Completely nudity was a luxury reserved for Sundays, when they had hours alone at Derek’s. Derek hoped to do it in his parents’ double bed again next Sunday so they’d have more room to play. The way Archie leaned back and grabbed the corner posts while riding Derek’s cock created the most erotic crucifixion image possible.

“So Angel, how will you do me today?” Archie asked. “From underneath would be a safe guess, yes?” Archie pushed Derek’s shoulder and Derek obediently lay on his back. He didn’t bother restraining his grin.

“Face me,” Derek said as they exposed themselves.

“You still get off on seeing your hand on my knob, don’t you Angel?”

Derek nodded. “Seeing my dick in you, and the way your face changes with those sounds you make. I love everything about you when you’re full of me.” He slid oily fingers into Archie’s arse and wiggled them eagerly. Archie clutched Derek’s shoulder and made noises of masculine pleasure in his ear. “As soon as I’m inside you I’m going to fuck you hard.”

“ _Uh_ -how hard?”

“You’ll hit your head on the ceiling and paint the wall with cum.”

“Quick Angel, get in me,” Archie commanded as he covered Derek’s cock with a condom. Derek kept hoping he’d forget if he got him horny enough. Archie’s hand was still rolling latex down his shaft when Derek started inserting his knob.

“Let your arse do the rest Sweetheart. It fits me tight enough.”

“Are you going to fetch it if it gets stuck deep up my arse?”

“With my teeth,” Derek promised and felt Archie slide down as arousal changed the tension in his muscles. Derek thrust upwards. “Put all your weight on my cock. Rest your feet on my shoulders, don’t push, hands on your head. Oh fuck yes!” Derek pushed the underside of Archie’s knees so he couldn’t put his feet down. He was heavy but Derek didn’t care about that since he was seated fully around Derek’s cock and wriggling about to get more comfortable. _So deep, can’t get any deeper, wish I was longer._ The weight became too much and Derek moved Archie’s knees so his feet touched the mattress, then grabbed him by the hips and fucked him hard as promised.

“Uh—oah—fuck—uh— _uh_ —oah—oah-uh-uh…” Archie swiftly stifled his noises while Derek’s increased in volume with each pronouncement.

“Ooh yeah, bounce for me, so your cock slaps me, like that. Ride me Sweetheart, ride me _hard_ …”

“Sh-sh-sh,” Archie reprimanded quietly and lost momentum. Derek tightened his grip on Archie’s hips and took control of their tempo.

“Nobody’s home,” he grunted. _Are they?_ _Don’t care. Soon we’ll have our own home and we can fuck anywhere as loud as we want._ “And fucking you feels so good my sweetheart. Fuck you all day, every day. Hear you come. Love it. Come for me, make me come.”

Derek squeezed Archie’s hips and felt the familiar sensation of cum trapped against his cock by a condom. Archie’s orgasm didn’t reach his dick but this time they weren’t worried about that. Derek didn’t understand the spunk-less climax concept when Archie explained it but since Archie seemed happy with the result it couldn’t be a bad thing. Although…

Archie nudged Derek’s cheek with a big toe and scowled at him. “Why didn’t you shut up? Holding hands at school will be enough if you want to get caught, **without** earning me a thrashing.”

“We’re alone and you usually like making noise.” Derek tried to spread Archie’s knees and sit up to kiss him. The gesture wasn’t received with the expected enthusiasm.

“Not here though.”

“I know, sorry. But I have this increasingly sexy boyfriend and we’ve been fighting less. In four months my exams will be over, then a few weeks after that I’m off to University and sexy boyfriend becomes live-in lover. Granny flats are increasingly popular, so keeping him and his Mum together without losing our privacy might be possible.” Defiantly clenched knees fell to the side and Derek was welcomed into his lover’s personal space for a passionate kiss. “I’m forgiven for getting excited?” Derek asked softly.

“This time,” Archie teased Derek’s mouth with his lips, “maybe every time. Now get dressed and drive me to Cheng’s. There’s an old song I need to transpose to suit Wren’s voice so she can sing it at tomorrow’s gig. Donk’s always nagging for more hetero lyrics, but they won’t sound so het coming from a bird.” His confidently mischievous grin amazed Derek.

“You’re supposed to be frowning.” Derek placed both hands over the angel on his lover’s back and kissed him again. Archie pushed down on Derek’s shoulders as he rose from Derek’s lap. “Why are you angry at me? You said it! I was joking.”

“No-one wants us to be happy together.” Archie gloomily began getting dressed.

“I do. You do. Your Mum does.”

Archie’s eyes voiced his disappointment louder than his words. “Not anymore,” he said.

Derek covered his exposed privates with both hands and stared at the mattress for a moment. “Deborah doesn’t approve of us anymore?” he asked to clarify and Archie confirmed it. “Is it because you came back here?” Derek asked. Archie shrugged. “Do you still love me Archie, or is going to Cheng’s an excuse to get rid of me?”

“No excuse. We started this band together but I let myself get distracted.”

“That isn’t what I asked.” _I don’t give an arse about your stupid band._ “Was there any point in me making plans for tomorrow night or are we only together so I can drive you around?”

Archie stood in the corner, arms crossing his chest to grasp his shoulders. “You made plans?” He seemed to be asking the floor. Derek could not judge his mood.

“What’s your problem now?”

“I didn’t think tomorrow would matter to you.”

Derek wasn’t in the mood for Weazl attitude. “It’s Valentine’s Day you tit and I’m your boyfriend. I spent weeks figuring out what to do and I’ve had to change most of it!” He stood and angrily fixed his pants. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have bothered. Don’t poofters do Valentine’s Day?” he asked snidely.

“Not closeted ones, not that I’ve seen.”

Derek grabbed his bag.

“So, you’re not picking me up tomorrow then?” Archie asked sharply.

“Your rubbish, useless band can find other transport.”

“I meant **me**! Or is that your point?”

“You haven’t answered **my** question yet.”

“What, which?”

“Why are we together?” Derek asked snappily because right then he wasn’t sure it mattered. They had support from Deborah and some of Archie’s friends before. Now their supporters had turned against them, Jon hated him, and Derek couldn’t do this alone. “Why are we together?” He asked carefully this time because it did matter. He’d never find love like this again. “Archie?” There was no way to remove a tear without drawing attention to it, so he let it fall. “Sweetheart?”

“We’re in love, aren’t we?” Archie didn’t sound sure anymore.

Derek didn’t know how to provide the reassurance they both needed. “Then I’ll pick you up as arranged.”

“Derek?” Archie’s arms assumed a protective position and he looked beside and around Derek rather than at him. “Do you-?”

Derek had to interrupt before they both became weeping messes. “No Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re rubbish.” He touched Archie lightly on the cheek and kissed his eyebrow to prove it. “Never have and never will. I’m sorry for making you feel that way. Have a good night at Cheng’s.”

Archie nodded but didn’t follow Derek beyond the bedroom door. He still looked miserable.

Cyril Tanner passed Derek on the footpath and called him a fag. Derek didn’t react since he called Kennelly and Cheng fags too. _You won’t be beating your son tonight, cock-cheese. I left him on the verge of tears._

14 February 1976

Derek knew when Arse was due for their half hour break and he sat offstage, balancing hot take-away on his lap while reading a book for school. The detested tome was tedious and inane yet provided a welcome distraction from the racket his boyfriend made. _Good Lord, it’s like that rubbish Jon made me listen to!_ How so many people enjoyed listening to such tripe remained a mystery to Derek. He suspected alcohol, drug use, and endorphins to be contributing factors.

Archie bounded offstage, reeking of perspiration. He’d reek worse by the end because he didn’t remain static like Simon and Garfunkel—whose music Derek favoured—but bounded around like a gazelle employing all evasive manoeuvres.

“Whatever that is smells great, it’s been tormenting me.” He dragged Derek to his feet. “However, I suggest fuck first, food later. Agreed?”

Derek sat the food carefully on the front seat of the station wagon, unlocked the back and got his lower clothes off while Archie made his customary stop at the men’s room. No time for full nudity. “Me,” Archie called before tapping the window, just in case Derek thought the cops were about to shine their torches about the place, or Kennelly was being his usual cock-blocking self. He crawled in like a predator and straddled Derek, leaning over to lock the door as they kissed. He’d borrowed some of Cheng’s deodorant and was sucking a pink-musk lolly so he smelled and tasted rather nice. They wasted no time. Derek’s love was hard, gloved, greased and inside his lover’s hot hollow within minutes. Archie lifted and turned so he sat facing away from him and then slowly leaned back so he lay flat on top. They carefully spread their legs at different angles to stop Derek sliding completely out. Archie used his legs to brace his weight so Derek could breathe without difficulty. One arm curved back behind Derek’s head so they could kiss awkwardly while the other hand urgently pumped and squeezed to keep Archie hard and more likely to come. He was sheathed as well to save on cleaning time before heading back to the stage. Derek bucked and thrust, holding his sweetheart’s hip and chest so Archie didn’t jolt off to the side. He fondled the pierced nipple under the slashed flannel shirt, causing Archie to writhe and moan.

“Oh so good,” Derek murmured as he fucked Archie faster, loudly slapping their lower bodies together. He could listen to the percussive sounds they produced all night. “Oh, oh you’re so, so **good**. Oh yes, _I love you._ ” Finally, Derek practically hissed the words in a lustful whisper.

“Uh-uh-uh. Do you? Uh-uh-uh-oh Angel, uh.”

“Yes, mmm yes, oh I, yes-s-s.” Derek rolled his pelvis and pulled Archie’s hips back as they climaxed together. He described how they’d have to use this position again, somewhere with a mirror so Derek could watch his cock thrust in and out of Archie’s arse, see Archie fuck his hand, Archie’s face, and watch him come, cum splattering everywhere, all at once. The concept was so perfectly, beautifully erotic.

They rolled to the side and tried Derek spooning behind his sweetheart while they caught their breath and dealt with condoms. Archie was having none of that. He turned to Derek and challenged his public behaviour as they fixed themselves up.

“Then why don’t you say ‘yes’ when your friends ask if you love your _girl_ friend? Or better yet, correct them? They’ve given you plenty of opportunities. You don’t mind telling them you fuck regularly, just not that you’re fucking **me**. You never discuss anything we talk about or anywhere we go. You act like you love me when we’re alone but never say it. During sex doesn’t count. I already know you love to **fuck** me. I’m not just a cock for you to suck and a hole to punch.”

“Sweetheart,” Derek touched Archie’s sweaty, defiant face. “How can I tell them I love you if they can’t see why? They don’t understand that you’re more than an arrogant punk. You project this image and I’m trying to help them see past it so I can tell them I love **you**. Not some girl I invented so I can talk about being with you Archie, but **you**. Would I ask you to come with me when I go to university if I didn’t love you?”

“I like the way I look, it takes a fucking lot of work to get everything how I want it. This ‘image’ **is** me Derek, just as much as everything else. Unlike you I think and feel the same way all the time. It doesn’t matter whether there’s an audience or what I’m wearing. And you know I can’t leave Mum by herself with him for more than a couple of hours.”

Archie would have cancelled tonight’s gig if Cyril wasn’t working a double shift. He’d be at home, waiting for the shit to fly so he could mop it up. Derek hadn’t given up on the idea of living together but he hadn’t figured out how to make it plausible from Archie’s perspective yet either.

“Archie, Sweetheart, I…”

“I have to get ready to go back on.”

Derek followed him out of the car before Archie could slam the door. Normally he waited a minute or longer to avoid witnesses, but normally their fights became foreplay. “Perhaps you could try saying no once in a while so I take these ‘less sex Derek’ rants of yours seriously. Or haven’t you noticed how quick you are to accept cock when it’s on offer?”

Archie spun around and continued walking backwards while he aimed a rather menacing rude gesture at Derek. Without missing a beat he completed the circle then increased the pace and length of each stride. Derek broke into a jog and caught his boyfriend in the shadows at the rear door. He put both arms around Archie’s waist and punctuated his speech with kisses to the back of Archie’s neck.

“Sweetheart, please. Your language is foul, your hair and manner of dress are atrocious, your band is worse, your temper shorter than a baby’s little finger, but apart from that I find no fault in you.”

Archie laughed and stopped resisting his embrace. “ **That** has to be the best ‘I love you’ ever.”

Their deep, slow and tongue-filled kiss of reconciliation was tainted by a series of distant wolf whistles which grew closer until Derek pulled back to declare “Happy Valentine’s Day Sweetheart.”

“It’s Happy Birthday actually Angel, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“So will Derek apparently. You do realise your girlfriend is a _boy_?” Nigel may well have asked if Derek realised he’d just eaten poo.

Derek saw Archie’s hazel eyes narrow in response to Nigel’s snide commentary. Both arms tightened around Archie in fear.

“An ugly boy,” added Andrew.

“Unless he’s wearing that skirt because he’s a girl,” continued Nigel.

“An **extremely** ugly girl,” Andrew said and sneered at Archie.

“Bet you lied about the tit-piercing too,” Jonathon said with a sigh and shook his head in exaggerated disappointment.

“Bet he didn’t. The poofter’s probably wearing frilly floral knickers under there. Give us a look.”

Nigel tried lifting the fabric and discovered that Derek’s valentine was wearing steel capped boots as one collided with his genitals. Andrew stepped back out of kicking distance.

“Put that thing down Derek, you don’t know where it’s been. Or is your toad still in its hole?” Andrew asked.

Derek released his hold on Archie’s waist as if his boyfriend had suddenly become toxic. Archie surprised everyone by turning to look questioningly at Derek instead of immediately attacking Andrew.

“Derek?”

“ _Derek?_ ” Andrew cruelly mimicked him. “Why is it calling you by your first name Derek? Surely Landon would be easier to say with a mouthful of cock. Or do you like the feel of teeth around your knob?”

Derek tried to ignore the jibe but he knew it was over. It would be all over the school in no time. Goodbye School Captaincy, Bon Voyage University Scholarship, Fare Thee Well Reputation, So Long Love. He couldn’t lie his way out of this like he did when Sue caught them kissing.

“This better be some kind of joke.”

“Even then it’s sick.”

“Is Weazl your Sweetheart, Derek? Are you a cock sucking, arse fucking, poofter faggot?” Jonathon spit out, clearly enraged at his friend’s extended betrayal of trust. His oddly hollow stare gave Derek the creeps.

“No.” The pointless lie was merely reflex. Derek’s eyes and chest burned after telling it. He had no need to see how his ‘girlfriend’ reacted to hearing it. He couldn’t understand why Jonathon had been the one to say those things. Derek expected Jon to sympathise and protect him once the truth was known, not turn against him. _That time at his house, did he know he turned me on, or suspect what kind of thoughts about him I had to suppress? What did we fight about at Andrew’s?_

Nigel punched Derek in the face. Archie jumped off the stairs onto Nigel’s back. Andrew and Jonathon joined their fists to the fight. Derek ran to his car to escape the confusion in his head as much of that in the carpark. Jon had always been more of a mediator than a fighter. What caused such a dramatic change? Jon hadn’t been using drugs before Ronnie’s death but what about since then? In the rear vision mirror he saw Jonathon being attacked by everyone after accidentally punching Nigel instead of Archie. Security muscle intervened and after the briefest of pauses that felt like an epoch, Derek drove away.

He berated himself for leaving them there to get pummelled, his closest friend and his boyfriend. But he didn’t turn back. He was pathetic.

He slunk into the house so his parents wouldn’t see him and took the phone off the hook in case the Fitzgibbon, Steward or Inman families felt a need to discuss the night’s events with the Landons. He didn’t dare call Archie or his friends. Derek didn’t cry; didn’t think; didn’t sleep—he couldn’t do anything. He was empty.

15 February 1976

Derek sat in the customary position between his mother and sister during Mass. Well, customary before he began pretending he was with Jon on Sundays. Then his customary position was on his back or knees and up to his balls in boyfriend. There’d be no more of that because he no longer had a boyfriend and had no-one to blame for that but himself.

Again certain Scripture quotes took on different meanings as the priest tried to save Derek’s soul:

**_St Matthew 26:34—35_ **

Jesus said unto him: Verily I say unto thee, that this night, before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. Peter said unto him: Though I should die with thee, yet will I not deny thee.

**_26:69—70_ **

Now Peter sat without in the palace and a damsel came unto him, saying: Thou also was with Jesus of Galilee. But he denied before them all, saying: I know not what thou say.

**_26:72_ **

 And again he denied with an oath: I do not know the man.

**_26:73—75_ **

…Surely thou also art one of them; for thy speech reveals thee. Then he began to curse and to swear, saying: I know not the man and immediately the cock crew. And Peter remembered the word of Jesus, which said unto him: Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. And he went out, and wept bitterly.

Derek wept as bitterly as Peter, tears unseen by those beside him. Father Greg paraphrased from the New Testament ‘Love thou me?’ and Derek whispered the favoured Disciple’s response “Thou know I love thee.” Unlike Peter, Derek did not answer the Messiah. It was torture, sitting here when he should be saying those words to Archie, proving it with his body and reinforcing his love with public behaviour. He knelt forward to pray with the others and grasped the back of the pew in front of him for balance. He did not recite or hear the words murmured around him because he remembered kneeling behind his beloved like this two weeks ago: leaning forward and desperately clutching the headboard of his bed as he rigorously snapped his hips, fucking Archie—oh, so, **_hard_** ; the bed shook and bounced beneath them; skin slapped loudly, making a hollow cupping sound; Archie’s head hanged down to rest in the curve of his arm as he made sounds of satisfaction, on the brink of exhaustion but still so eager to be fucked his spine undulated like waves; Derek slowed his motion to long slides, almost withdrawing completely and watching his cock disappear into Archie’s arse, stretched pink and almost perfectly circular, only to reappear and repeat the process— _‘oh_ _you’re so beautiful, mm oah Sweetheart, you move ooah you feel so perfect, I want to live inside you’—_ then he accelerated again; taking both hands from the headboard he placed one over Archie’s heart, holding him up while Derek’s head rested on the Angel at the top of his spine, breathing hot and urgent against his skin; his other hand delivered a fervent hand job so they came as a single entity because that is what they should always be, a unit.

Derek crushed his head against the wood. His hips involuntarily humped air and he cried out “God, fuck!” amid the gentle chorus of “Amen” as he ejaculated in his pants. “Fuck!” he repeated desperately and began to weep openly.

His mother went into hysterics and everyone else stared. Derek was too dead inside to care.

λ

Bethany Landon explained her son’s outburst to Father Greg. “…Satan’s influence. That devil boy from school saw he had the purest soul and corrupted him.”

“Archie isn’t the devil.” Dried tears stained Derek’s cheeks, crusting semen stained his underwear, Archie’s accusation stained his conscience— _you act like you love me but you never say it!_ “I love him…”

“See! Tainted! How could you not see that creature for what he is? He has horns in his hair!”

“It’s hairspray, sometimes he has twists or spikes…”

“Get the devil out of him, please Father. Bring my innocent son back from the brink of damnation.”

“St Peter and Jesus were doing it,” Derek muttered and his mother started to pray frantically.

“Father Lucas, please fix Mrs Landon a cup of tea with some brandy in it, about half of each. I will hear your son’s confession, Mrs Landon. What happens after that will be between young Derek and Our Father. Bethany? I have sworn to the Holy Trinity not to relay what is revealed in the confessional. Even a mother’s authority cannot hold precedence over God’s.”

Derek’s mother nodded and tearfully sipped at her fortified tea as her son numbly sat in the dark, cramped and stuffy confession booth.

“Does it have to be so dreadful in here?” he asked.

“Of course, otherwise the loneliest people would never leave and this cupboard would be my permanent address. Being stifled inside this box is my own personal hell and motivates me to do my best. If I can get my congregation to behave I will never have to sit in here again,” Father Greg quipped drily. “To serious matters Derek: There is no pleasure in sin, only the pretence of pleasure to trap us into following the road to ruin. It fools us into enjoying our walk along meandering paths so we can’t find our way back. Worse still, we don’t always want to find a way back.”

Father Greg’s comments about transgression carried the lament of personal experience. Derek hadn’t heard a Priest sound like an ordinary man before. _What sins have you committed, Father Greg?_

“Why did you become a priest, Father Greg?”

“I’m sorry anonymous confessor but any conversations with Father Greg must occur outside the sound-proof booth. In here I am the ears of Our Lord and the voice of His mercy, nothing more. Forget the formal introduction, what do you wish to confess?”

Derek silently twiddled his thumbs.

“Let’s begin with your profane ejaculation at the conclusion of prayer.”

“How did you know?”

“My boy, the deaf old dear who plays the organ heard you and fell off her stool…Ah, I see. Well, I think I see where this is going. Do you regret what occurred between you?”

“Not entirely.”

“Do you intend to do it again?”

“Forever, if he’ll let me.”

“Do you intend to continue being difficult? Being celibate does not mean I enjoy hearing other people’s sordid sex tales.”

“I thought you were only the ears of our Lord in here?”

“I am, His ears are celibate too, as is the rest of Him. He and St Peter were not ‘doing it’. They spoke of asexual love, not a sexual love.”

“Pedantics…”

“Pedantics separate fact from fiction, truth from falsehood…”

“Well then, the fact is I loved him, I still love him. I may always love him. Yes he’s the most infuriating person in creation. Yet he has such an amazing capacity to love.” It all burst forth as Derek whispered and wept, queried and berated. Mostly, he mourned. Why couldn’t he proclaim his love earlier? Especially to the boy who most needed to hear it. _Please God, let him hear me now._ _I love you Archie and always will, **always**._

The ears of Our Lord listened patiently and the voice of His mercy offered a typically tedious procedure for absolution. Then the priest in the adjoining cupboard informed the young sinner that Father Greg would be available outside the sound-proof booth once he’d eaten his lunch, should Derek still wish to have that other conversation.

“I will say this before you leave though Derek, as a man and not a Priest. Your most difficult days wait on the horizon.” The man drew a compassionate breath. “In my years on earth I have only met two types of men: those that choose to love and those that do not. God and those who serve Him will always love you, especially when others will not. Though your friends and family may turn against you, you will always find refuge in God’s house.”

16 February 1976

Derek didn’t eat breakfast. He forced himself to go to school because it was Monday and following protocol seemed easier than explaining anything more to his parents. He arrived in time for the teacher to mark him as present while being late enough to avoid a lecture on tardiness. He dawdled to class so the only seat available was ‘the naughty desk’, far from his friends while being adjacent to both teachers’ desk and door. The phrase “pair of faggots” came harshly from Andrew’s direction.

He said and did nothing. He was empty of all thought and emotion apart from dread.

An anonymous student seated at this desk once scratched ‘choose this day who you will serve’ into the wood, to which was later added in biro: ‘and verily Weazl sayeth unto thee: forget not to ask “would you like fries with that?” or thou shalt never work at McDonalds again.’

Derek ran his finger over the pointless words with which his sweetheart defaced school property. He was empty of all thought and emotion apart from dread and sorrow. He’d lied to Jonathon. He abandoned Archie and left him alone in a three on one brawl. He didn’t speak up, didn’t admit and defend his love—their love. He’d run away and in doing so reduced everything they shared to smut. Archie would never forgive Derek this time. ‘Weazl’ had no respect for cowards. Derek had turned his back on every opportunity to be courageous, every chance to be honest with the people who mattered most.

As a couple they often fought, but Archie had to fight every hour of every day. He fought to be seen and heard so others felt bold enough to step out of the shadows. Derek wanted nothing more than to crawl deeper into the darkness, curl into a ball of gloom, pull a blanket over his head and stay there until everything went away. He hurried from the classroom when the bell rang in order to find somewhere to hide from everyone during break. He huddled in a dark corner behind some stairs, like a child. He couldn’t eat, didn’t smoke, and refused to hide in the lavatory or play truant, so again he did nothing.

Sounds of an escalating brawl reached his nook. Derek didn’t really need to look to know which factions were going at it today. He looked anyway and his suspicions were confirmed as he saw Kennelly and Dawn stick the boot into Nigel. Claudia pulled Andrew’s hair while Cheng kneed him in the abdomen and Claire cheered them on. Stephanie and Jonathon were verbally going at it. Jon seemed determined to join the fracas with Stephanie equally determined to keep him out of it. The remaining members of the Captains Bench and Wild Wood kept to their separate factions; politely asking each other what was going on without being silly enough to get involved. Archie calmly insisted to the teacher on duty that he had no idea what brought this about and the situation was beyond his control; his wounds were from a completely unrelated incident, the result of rough sex after a gig Saturday night; darn S & M orgies, there ought to be a law; would Sir like the address?

The end of recess bell rang out. The Wild Wood immediately stopped inflicting bodily harm and collected their bags without further comment. Donk hoisted Archie’s bag onto a shoulder with his own and left him behind with a nod.

“Where’s Landon?” Archie asked the three victims in a friendly tone. “Don’t know? If you lot dealt him the same shit you served me the other night, I’m coming after you. **All** of you,” he said with an emphatic glower at Jonathon. “I’m not as lenient as my friends. School or not, you will die.”

“You weren’t so tough last night,” said Nigel.

“See how well you manage after riding your mate Landon’s cock in the back of a car. Oops. I mean on an empty stomach after fifty minutes onstage, following two hours of scrubbing dishes, after an hour polishing floors. Don’t want you fellas thinking I’m some limp-wristed pansy.” He took two steps away before Andrew’s shout kept him in place.

“You’re a tosser!”

“True. Don’t forget cock sucker, though not as gifted as Landon. He’s **mind** blowing.”

“He’s not a poof.” Derek wondered why Jonathon said that. He had no problem calling him worse than ‘poof’ on Saturday night. “Derek was just using you because he knew you fancied him. You can’t get pregnant plus you put out quicker than any girl—anywhere, anytime, and probably anyhow.”

“Did he tell you that?” A barely perceptible chink appeared in Archie’s otherwise flawless wall of menace as he asked. Jonathon noticed and exploited it.

“Yeah he did.”

Derek wanted Jon to stop making things worse. What was he trying to prove with this tripe? Is this how he thought to defend his friend? Were they friends at all anymore?

“Let me tell you a few truths about your **friend** Derek, Steward.” Archie didn’t seem to think so, and made Jon’s name sound like the vilest epithet ever spoken while sneering directly in face. Derek couldn’t hear what followed but that cruel expression was familiar.

Jon stood his ground, silently taking whatever brutal comments Archie made, but something snapped when Archie began to walk away again. “What, that’s it?” Jon jeered. “No ‘tell Derek I love him’? Didn’t he say he loved you all those times he shoved his dick up your arse? How many times did he say they did it, Drew?” _For goodness sake Jonathon, shut your mouth!_

“Faggot slut! Do you charge as much as your mother?” Andrew foolishly called out. Archie swiftly changed direction and flew at him so hard they fell to the ground before Nigel or Jon could intervene. Andrew’s head cracked loudly against a bench on the way down. Jonathon and Nigel ran for help as fists and swear words rained down on their friend. Derek couldn’t stop watching as he cowered behind the stairs. Three teachers dashed onto the quadrangle to drag Archie off the concussed and bleeding prefect. He managed to get a couple more kicks in before he saw Derek lurking in the shadows, the coward who once more abandoned him amid a field of lies.

 “Come on Landon. Come out, come out wherever you are!” Archie called mockingly as he strained against the teachers holding him.

Derek ducked down before the teachers turned to look. The change in the air was tangible as his former future suddenly allowed himself to be led away. Derek took a peek then had to stare. There was nothing meek in Archie’s posture or stride. He was pure Weazl and this school was his stomping ground. Derek was doomed.

λ

The Deputy Headmaster eventually found Derek drifting mindlessly in an empty classroom. Thinking hurt and Derek continued trying his best to avoid doing it as he followed the Deputy Head along sternly silent corridors and an occasional starkly staring student. Derek’s world had been reshaped into frosty hollows and shades of whispers. There was no substance beyond an ache that seemed to throb through eternity.

Then finally: the chaotic noise of humanity.

The rest of the Captains Bench must have been summoned to the Principal’s office along with the Wild Wood since Derek was brought in past them all. United in disgust, the opposing groups stopped exchanging hostilities to scowl and sneer at their disgraced School Captain. Somebody spat. There were no signs of Archie or Andrew, Nigel or Jonathon.

The Headmaster sat solemn and stern behind his desk of intimidating dimensions, assumed an intimidating posture, and addressed Derek with his second-most intimidating tone—only because his arsenal of ominous intimidation was permanently held in reserve for the likes of Tanner and Kennelly.

“Mr Landon.”

“Professor Barrington.”

“This morning a number of your friends, yourself included, displayed behaviour completely out of character. Can you offer an explanation for this?”

“No Professor.”

“How did you get that mark on your face?”

“I slept awkwardly, ah, with my wrist under my face.”

“So you did not receive a fist to the face from Nigel Inman during an altercation behind the _So-So_ club Saturday evening?”

Derek struggled to keep his head still but he succeeded. “No Sir.”

“Whom are you protecting?”

“No-one Sir,” _only my piss-weak cowardly self, as always._

“Disquieting allegations have been made.”

“Oh?” _Am I supposed to say ‘Sir’ after that?_ “Sir?”

“Tanner’s rabble claim their actions this morning were in retaliation for an altercation that you, Mr Inman and Tanner all deny occurred. Who is Tanner protecting?”

“Who, what, beg your pardon?”

The Principal was no longer intimidating or cajoling but approaching irate. “In five years, five Mr Landon, not once in five years has that rabble rouser sat in that chair and lied about his misdeeds until today. That menace is honest to a fault. However, Mr Landon, today you and your respectable companions sit before me for the first time in your entire schooling career and lie from start to finish. Do not mistake my words Mr Landon, for I am **beyond** content to have a reason to expel Tanner and be rid of him for good but I will not tolerate distribution or consumption of narcotics at this school!”

“Narcotics?”

“Do you have some other explanation for me, Mr Landon? Some other reason for what happened to Mr Fitzgibbon at the conclusion of recess?”

“I wasn’t there.”

“You were not behind the stairwell after recess ended?”

“No Sir.”

“Dear oh dear, now my teaching staff are feeding me falsehoods as well! I shall have to inform the police so they know which testimonials to discount from the beginning. You may go.”

Derek stood. “Police Sir?”

“Indeed Mr Landon. Tanner grievously assaulted Fitzgibbon.”

Derek hesitated, half a stride from the door. _Archie could go to gaol._ “Sir?”

“Yes Mr Landon?” Frustrated interrogator became the patient listener.

“He was provoked.”

“Hmm? Who was?”

 _Archie_ “Tanner Sir. They said…things.”

“People always say things to Tanner, Mr Landon. He’s quite proud of making himself a target.”

“Yes Sir but …”

“Yes?”

“They brought his-boyfriend-and-mother-into-it-Sir.” Derek said the last seven words as one.

“That’s one way to commit suicide, I suppose.”

“Sir?”

“What? Nothing. Do you know the identity of Tanner’s romantic interest?” The question was equally quick as unexpected.

Derek shook his head, a small, nervous twitching from side to side. “No Sir.”

“I see. Wait here a moment.” Professor Barrington opened the side door into an adjoining office and closed it behind him. Derek heard nothing but rhubarb, “boyfriend involved?” and what he believed to be a determined “no” before the Principal returned and asked the person from the next room to come through. Archie stalked in with his usual swagger until he saw Derek.

 _Please don’t hate me Sweetheart,_ Derek thought as his loved one came to a stop and scowled.

“Have you anything you wish to say to Tanner, Mr Landon?” Professor Barrington asked Derek.

 _I love you, I’m sorry for not being brave enough to admit it._ “No Sir.”

“Tanner, is there anything you wish to say to Mr Landon?”

Archie removed the simple ear stud Derek gave him for Christmas and tossed it into the Headmaster’s ashtray, then turned to Barrington as if Derek wasn’t there. “Will I be expelled?” Archie asked. “You don’t want me here, and it’ll cause less shit at home than if I merely drop out.”

“Today’s effort should be enough to validate it.”

“Is there a teacher you don’t particularly like? I could give them a going over for you on the way out, best to err on the side of caution.”

“Don’t tempt me. Behave yourself.”

“Fuck that.”

Derek felt he was missing something. He should have asked why the school made so many allowances for his boyfriend. That would be his first priority once they made up. Derek reflexively moved his hand to touch Archie as he made his way to the door. “Arch-”

Archie leaned forward menacingly instead of pulling away. “Fuck off Landon, you had your chances.”

Derek shrank back and watched him go.

“So, Mr Landon,” Professor Barrington said sternly. “Perhaps now you feel able to tell me what this hoo-hah is all about.”

Derek described that morning’s altercation, starting with the fisticuffs by the door behind _So-So_. He saw no need to mention how it began, how he fled, how he did nothing to defend his boyfriend then or this morning. Or that Derek Landon and Archie Tanner had been a couple since June.

_We were in love. They took us by surprise. If there’d been time to react I would have behaved differently. We’d be sitting here holding hands and dealing with their outrage together._

The Headmaster again sat solemn and stern behind his oversized desk. “Earlier this morning, your parents requested transfers to another school for both you and Susan. Until they are approved you will spend each recess and lunch break with the school chaplain. Tanner is a very disturbed young man with a troublesome home life, as you no doubt learned during your acquaintance. How he copes with that—it is a shame you were caught up in his distorted view of the world. We’ll soon set you straight again.”

Derek was stunned. Barrington knew the whole time. _I denied loving Archie for nothing._

λ

The rumour mill had begun grinding Derek’s reputation into flour and baking it into loaves before he left Barrington’s office, probably before he’d arrived at school. He searched for Jonathon so they could argue things out properly and mutually apologise but Jon was not in class.

Archie had been expelled along with the most loyal of his pack. Derek was determined to explain and apologise to him that afternoon. There was no reason not to now the entire school knew. They would get back together. Derek should be able to finish school here so they could stay together. Everything would be better than before.

Deborah answered his knock looking haggard, wretched and in despair. Finding Derek at her door made her snort abruptly. “Two of them now,” she said. “All the clever things he’s done mean nothing but **this** makes the arsehole proud of him. Cyril’s Nancy boy almost kills someone so now they’re drinking it up like a pair of **men**.” Deborah hollered into the house.  “WEAZL! FOR YOU!” That bellow made Archie’s rages appear timid. Derek stumbled off the stoop. Deborah turned back to stare Derek him down. “You better be here to fix this Mr Bullshit because that boy is the only reason I bother breathing.” She walked around to the backyard to avoid her son as he staggered out, drunk as the proverbial.

“Fuck—OFF!” Archie declared before Derek could begin.

“Sweetheart, listen, please…”

“Don’t. Don’t you **ever** call me that again you spineless git. As for listening Derek **fucking** Landon, **you** stopped listening to me after I let you slide your dick up my arse. Always telling me what to do, always wanting to fuck.”

“You were the one insisting ‘fuck now, eat later’ the other night.” Derek kept his voice low, vainly hoping Archie would do the same. _So much for ‘everybody knows, no more hiding’_

“You know what I’m like when I come off stage.” Archie muttered to himself as he rearranged the words. “You know what I come like when I’m off stage? Yeah, no, right first time. It’s all the same though ihn’t it.”

“Archie…”

“NO! I jumped in to defend you arsehole and you fucking left me! Three times in forty hours, you left me fucking hanging and didn’t have a single fucking thing to say to me. Don’t come here, call, or try talking to me again. Don’t even think of fucking me! Eh? Not—close e-bloody-nough!”

Derek tried to keep him outside by grasping his arm. Archie swung the other to clobber him with a closed fist and Derek tasted his own blood. He touched his stinging lip and stared with surprise at the mess smeared on his fingertips. Somehow seeing Derek’s blood made Archie even angrier and he gave Derek an Arse Weazl voiced goodbye:

“You’re not worth holding on to.”

17 February 1976

Whispers, smirks and blatant slurs followed Derek through the school grounds. Not all of them came from students.

Someone had scratched ‘HOMO LIAR’ down both sides of his car in foot high letters. By the smell of it they’d urinated on it too. Students of all ages and social groups gathered to see his reaction. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to. Their similar smug smirks said it all. No-one would dare do this to any gay while Weazl was at school. But Weazl would never be back and Derek was not under Wild Wood protection. He was under no-one’s protection.

He bundled one hand in his school jumper to open the car door and drove to the nearest automatic car wash. He cried against the steering wheel as the brushes, soap and water scoured the outside of the vehicle clean. But what of Derek, what would scrub him clean? He paid the female attendant and she refused to give him his change.

“I didn’t get the wax and buff!”

“Homo surcharge,” she said with a grin and pointed at the vandalised paintwork.

Derek wanted to smash her bitchy face in but he’d already attracted enough trouble.

Eggs had been thrown at his house and _Arse fucker Landon_ sprayed on the front windows in fluorescent orange paint. His parents made him clean it off before it got dark so the neighbours would see him and know which Landon was the arse fucker.

18 February 1976

Someone painted an erect cock wearing a halo on the front door overnight. Not someone, Donk. He slipped a plastic-wrapped note under Derek’s windscreen wiper: _Weazl told us not to fuck you up. He never mentioned your house, car, or hot little sister. I might fuck her the way you fucked him. See you fag._

Derek’s parents began using the back door as the main portal and made him use the front. He had to remove the new graffito then take his laundry to the laundrette before school because his mother insisted the thought of touching anything he wore or slept on gave her a nervous breakdown. He yelled that she had no trouble sleeping in her bed after he fucked his boyfriend in it. They simply stripped then flipped whichever pillow Archie came on and remade the bed when they were done. The memory of it made him sick.

He felt ugly and rotten to the core when only days ago he felt cherished and desirable.

19 February 1976

Derek sat alone in the quadrangle instead of going to class. His parents would not let him stay home while the transfers were being processed, unlike Sue. This was his fault. Derek was the deviant. Why should his sister suffer? They were moving house and changing schools for **her** sake. Once he completed high school he’d be no son of theirs. He appreciated the irony.

The only person he tried talking to was Jonathon but he was less welcome at the Steward home than the Tanners’. Jon refused to acknowledge him beyond an abusive note delivered via paper aeroplane that he tossed through a half-open window onto the driveway. This rejection hurt more than his broken face, more than his mother’s hysterical overreactions.

_Jonathon hates me? I don’t understand._

20 – 28 February 1976

He understood Jonathon’s point about seeking refuge in the emotionless beige. Every minute looked like a line graph with scarlet spikes measuring his heartache, overlapped by grey for loneliness, black for hatred, and lightning blue-white for fury.

Derek missed Archie and loved his sweetheart more than before now the very idea of Love seemed forever lost. He wallowed in regret yet never saw self-harm as an option. He was determined to be less of a coward than he had been. He refused to let the bullies defeat him. He applied for a pump-jockey job at a service station, dropped out of school and moved out of home all within days. He decided to race forward since he could never go back.

And yet, the partner to Archie’s ear stud pierced the lining of Derek’s pocket when it wasn’t under his pillow. _There’ll only ever be you._

29 February 1976

The twenty-ninth of February was a date rife with superstition. A blend of faith and fantasy convinced Derek that this date fell on the Sabbath during his turmoil for a reason and he arranged to have a casual chat with Father Greg at three o’clock that afternoon. Conversing with the unexpectedly droll Father Greg was not as instantly cleansing as the harshness of the carwash brushes but it did make a difference.

“Sex corrupts,” Father Greg explained in an understanding rather than didactic tone over biscuits, fruit cake and tea. “It is intended to feel good, to be an expression of love as well as a method of procreation. With who, how and why we choose to have sex—those are the elements that can transform the most beautiful act into the most dangerous. I thank God for a calling which spares me from such decisions.”

Derek saw how he’d become corrupted by sex. It became all he thought about, his main pursuit. His relationship with Archie began in love but his behaviour changed as lust slowly and surely took control. Jonathon commented on it, as did Archie. What about Archie? He’d been prepared to be beaten for what they did together and Derek encouraged him!How could that be healthy?

Deborah had been right. “We should have waited,” Derek admitted to Father Greg.

“I cannot condone your relationship with this other young man, nor will I. But I will not turn you away from Christ because of it. Love the sinner and not the sin, Derek! So Our Saviour taught. So I believe.”

 _Love the sinner and not the sin_.

He had no need to be ashamed of loving Archie, or Jonathon, or any other boy because Love itself was not a sin. Lust however, definitely deserved its place among the deadly seven. “Help me prune these lustful thoughts and nurture the love that once grew within me,” he murmured in prayer.

Father Greg promised God’s help.

8 May 1976

Derek’s new independent life barely began to feel normal after three months. He missed laughing with Jonathon, kissing Archie, and the trite routine of school. He wasn’t sure who or what he craved the most and he rode his bike across town, coasting through a familiar park to try and find it. He soon wished he’d stayed at the flat behind the service station.

Archie and another boy sat close together on a bench in the sun, holding hands as they looked at each other, smiling and laughing in a way that ground Derek’s still aching heart into minced meat. He stopped in astonished grief, using his feet instead of the kickstand to hold the bike upright on the path. He should have ridden on or turned back while pretending he hadn’t seen them but he couldn’t. _Already? Do you hate me so much that you go after a ponce like that? You hate girlie glam boys!_ There was something awfully familiar about the girlie boy’s mannerisms and posture. Derek was painfully aware of how he’d fantasise about Jonathon or Rhett the Pretty Poster Boy after fighting with his sweetheart. Every emotion from when they were together stabbed him from every direction as though he’d been locked in an invisible iron maiden.

Archie suddenly glared at Derek then looked away from him, opening the iron maiden and letting him bleed. The other boy turned to look. It was him. Rhett’s features and build had changed over nine months but his vivid blue eyes and inquisitive expression were precisely as Derek remembered. Derek’s grief turned to outrage. Archie had been looking for this one with Vincent’s help while they were together. Had it really been for this? Surely Archie felt as Derek did, bleeding and raw from their last days. That Glammed up minx was taking advantage. _Slut!_

Derek expressed his opinion of the situation non-verbally as he glowered at his rival: _Get your thieving hands off my sweetheart!_ He felt confident Poster Boy got the message since he looked down slightly as he turned to say something to Archie. Archie’s expression as his attention was brought back to that attractive face, followed by his response to Rhett’s tender validating kiss ground Derek’s heart into finer mince and fed it to the dogs. _You kissed_ me _like that, don’t you remember? Tell him to fuck off. I’ll sit with you and tell you I love you, right here, right now, forever. TELL HIM TO FUCK OFF!_ Except Archie had never kissed Derek exactly like that, or looked at him that same way. His hard edge never softened so quickly for Derek. There was no way he’d be telling Poster Boy to fuck off. Derek wanted Rhett to drown like Ophelia so Archie could share some of the tragedy of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Or both of them die like Romeo and Juliet.

Derek never hated a person so much in his life—apart from himself.

9 May 1976 – September 1979

Derek’s confession differed from previous mindless repetitions. It was filled with envy and an abundance of lustful thoughts rather than sorrow and guilt. Memories of Archie held his focus. Everything else was peripheral.

Father Greg assured him yesterday’s encounter was a test of faith. “Lucifer sees you trying to purify your soul and threw this obstacle in your path. Use this recognition of how far you fell in one day to measure how far you’ve progressed since our first discussion.”

The priest was the only person Derek brought into his new life from the old. Nobody else listened to his pleas and apologies or tried to understand his pain. Their meetings encouraged Derek to find strength and forgiveness through God. He may never possess the same form of courage as Archie, whom he continued to regard fondly. Any thoughts of continued fondling remained between Derek and his pillow. He hadn’t chosen to be homosexual but that’s what he was.

He never stopped loving men or fantasising about them and knew that would never change. No amount of reading, prayer or listening to sermons could convince him otherwise. Experience had proven his flesh too willing and his resolve too weak. He refused to be ruled by his penis and believed celibacy would help him regain control of his life. Seminary taught him to resist certain impulses, just as his heterosexual peers learned to master their desires for women, in theory at least. On the practical side he was less successful, like some of his fellows, sometimes with his fellows. Sharing a room with other males his age meant they didn’t have secrets for long, particularly not the nocturnal kind.

“So who’s your boyfriend?” a fellow novice asked no-one in particular over porridge one morning.

“Beg pardon?” another asked with poorly disguised mortification. Derek had been about to respond the same way. His dreams had featured relationship highlights three nights in a row and last night he sought relief against his mattress. His room-mates might have heard.

“There’s always one,” an older student chuckled at the next table.

“Perhaps two,” Derek murmured to his horrified roommate while passing the milk jug.

They sought each other out with their eyes over the next few days, communicating a need to talk privately with someone who understood. Talk was the last thing they did when that opportunity arose. Frantic kissing ended with manual gratification followed by declarations that it should never happen again or be mentioned in confession. They’d both get into trouble and have no hope of redemption. Why risk everything they struggled to achieve on one moment of weakness?

Derek had a proper lover once, years ago now, but his body refused to forget the associated sensations. He remembered the feel of Archie’s lips against his, of his cock in Archie’s arse, of Archie’s cock in his mouth, of their arms around each other after they first had sex, how full his heart was. Time made his fear insignificant in comparison to the love they shared. _We could have made it if I’d been brave when you needed me, not just when I wanted to be. You’d be sleeping beside me now._ He remembered being seventeen and yearning to wake up next to his sweetheart He touched the vacant space on his pillow as he had then and murmured his regret before morning prayers.

That one moment of weakness with Paul was followed by another, and then another. The pattern continued for months before it escalated to oral sex and would have led to fucking if they weren’t caught 69ing between rows of beans after curfew. Neither heard of the other’s fate once they left isolation. Derek was transferred to a different seminary rather than declared excommunicate and assumed similar disciplinary action applied to Paul. He never referred to Paul as his lover because what they shared was empathy sex, not love.

October 1979 – September 1982

Bishop Warner had a high success rate of ‘curing’ homosexuals and part of Derek’s reprogramming involved ministering to those pathetic scraps of humanity who offered sexual favours for money or food. The hustlers Bishop Warner introduced to Derek had visible symptoms of drug use, physical abuse and sexually transmitted diseases. The Bishop expected these dire consequences of sex with other males to disgust him. Instead, these poor souls reminded Derek of his first love.

_“…There’s a street where people like us, younger even, sell themselves. I don’t want this part of my life to be empty like that. I want it to mean something…”_

_“…I was hungry, had no money, almost did something stupid to get something to eat and a bloke named Rupert stopped me…”_

_“Ever eaten out of a bin Derek? Or soap, because there’s nothing left and you’re sick of eating other people’s garbage? Ever lined up with other boys as pathetic as you wondering if that pervert cruising past will give you something to eat for letting him fuck you?”_

Archie could have been one of these boys if the owner of The Peacock hadn’t reached him before a pervert.

“I don’t want this part of my life to be empty like that. I want it to mean something,” Derek repeated his lover’s words and realised he’d come to a crossroad. _How can I save these boys and others like them? Can I help more as a Priest, or as a layman?_

He didn’t have financial security like Vincent and Rupert. He didn’t have the knowledge or experience to establish and maintain an organisation like The Peacock without assistance. That’s what these boys needed: somewhere safe to meet that provided companionship and education along with spiritual guidance. As a Priest he could provide both. He knew how to tender a proposal for Church funding to purchase property for such a community centre. Bishop Warren endorsed the project and agreed with Derek that focussing on others should tame his urges. He’d been so easily distracted by Paul because their idle minds provided a perfect playground for the devil. By providing a refuge for young men who’d fallen prey to similar yearnings, he could save many unfortunate souls rather than one.

In short time that was what he did. That was what he intended to continue doing, but so much tempting and willing male flesh proved to be more appealing than Derek had anticipated. Within five months of the institute opening Derek went from co-administrator and mentor, to client. He ministered to the workers every Sabbath after regular Mass as outlined in the institute’s mission statement. Once he visited on a Tuesday and paid the established rate, allowing him to gain sexual satisfaction without the guilt. He couldn’t be taking advantage of his position of authority if he was simply another customer. Derek swore this lapse would be the last. Seven weeks later he stumbled again. It became a monthly occurrence, then fortnightly and eventually weekly. By the end of the organisation’s second year, sworn-to-celibacy Father Derek was having sex more frequently than the married members of his congregation.

The Church knew nothing of his leisure activities since Priests were asked whether he flirted, not whether he fornicated, and Derek was not about to volunteer incriminating information. “Forgive me Father for I have sinned, this week I paid another male to call me ‘Angel’ while I sucked his cock then fucked his arse”—not likely. His partners were all consenting adults with the money exchanged written off as charitable donations to the community centre side of the establishment. The Church did not know it funded a gay brothel, let alone of Derek’s dual natured patronage—or turned a blind eye if it did. Either way suited Derek just fine.

The confessions he heard at chapel and brothel fuelled his fantasies. His favourite involved fucking one man’s arse while another sat on his co-worker’s back so Derek could suck the second man off at the same time. He knew which two fellows to pay for that privilege. For a few hours a week Derek Landon was an ordinary, randy man with an extraordinary libido. The rest of the time he was Father Derek and popular with both congregations because he genuinely cared about the people he served, regardless of their circumstances. Archie opened Derek’s heart and he refused to let the pain of their dissolution close it again. At both locations he offered those who believed in God the ear of their Lord and the voice of His mercy, so that even when they walked through the shadows of fear, they did not feel like they made that journey alone. He readily forgave them their sins because he believed it was the nature of mistakes and the harm those actions did to others that separated error from sin.

October 1982

The community centre subscribed to a number of gay publications, the unanimous favourite being _Legally Bare._ Every issue covered essentials such as written and pictorial erotica, articles, social commentary, advertisements and intimate advice, but the most popular feature centred on authentic couples sharing the daily reality of their relationship. The _Couple in Focus_ sections were stolen more often than the _Try This Position_ lift-outs. Derek envied the featured couples, sometimes to the level of despising them. The visitors and workers needed to hope for something beyond this place so Derek read about these men who had what he’d given away and then referred to them alongside the gospels in his sermons.

“I had a love worth living for. Nothing stood in our way as effectively as my fears. I can only offer advice on what not to do. You’re all aware of my failings.” There were no derisive comments or gestures from the Upstairs Crew as Father Derek made this admission. He never judged them as other priests did although he wasn’t alone in purchasing their wares. They respected him for his partial honesty because it was more than they were accustomed to. “Turn to the Bible and these inspirational couples for lessons in love. Don’t pull that face Bowen. My first love letter was quoted from the Lord’s book and my sweetheart’s reply continues to hold my place in the scriptures.” He opened the Bible in his hand to display Archie’s note. “Everywhere around us we see examples of heterosexual relationships. But where are healthy models for people like us?—Hidden between layers of pornography so we become lost before we know what to look for! By all means enjoy the pictures, you know I do. But please, please read what others like us have to say.” The congregation of seven lowered their heads as he led them in prayer and said a blessing over them. He heard their confessions, although only one had been baptised Catholic, then went upstairs to _Try This Position_ with one of his darlings.

Tom’s hair was similar in colour to Jonathon’s with a natural kink similar to Archie’s. Derek lifted it away from one light brown eye and Tom kissed him with a smile. Upstairs Crew didn’t normally kiss anyone but each other while they were clocked on, but these two had an agreement. Derek let Tom practice and perfect new techniques with him in preparation for other clients so their transactions included kissing and ‘Angel talk’ as well as money.

Tom chewed a smooth caramel as he pointed at the open magazine. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to hang upside-down from your hips with my head between your ankles while you fuck me.”

Derek picked it up to look. “What if we start standing? Use the wall so I can take your weight while you bring your legs up…”

“While you fuck me,” Tom huffed into Derek’s ear while stripping him from behind.

“…Then I step back a bit at a time, you lean back and hand-walk down the wall or something…”

“While you fuck me,” Tom said boldly and stood in front of Derek as he carefully bared all.

“…until you can grab my ankles so I can fuck you like that.”

“How hard will you fuck me _Angel_?” Tom brought Derek’s hand between his legs and squeezed his thighs together.

“Hard enough to make your dick flap about like a flag in a windstorm,” Derek promised and slid two fingers easily into Tom’s arse as their open mouths met. They successfully fucked against the wall and the weight on Derek’s cock as Tom assumed the handstand position felt magnificent, but it took too much effort to maintain. Plus the necessary condom kept disappearing up Tom’s arse.

“Strike this one off the list,” Tom declared as they figured out how to disengage without dislocating limbs. He decided to try walking his hands away from Derek as Derek gradually slumped to his knees, which worked, and they finished up with the old-fashioned wheelbarrow. Before Derek came he lifted Tom onto the bed and sucked him off because Archie **always** called him Angel while he was going down and Tom knew how to play. He didn’t move, sound, taste or behave the same as Angel’s Sweetheart but his cock was the closest fit in Derek’s mouth. And Derek had tried them all. Excited grunts of “Jesus Angel”, “lick my slit, lick it Angel, lick it”, and “you fucking fantastic cum eater” gave far more than Derek paid for and he came against the edge of the bed with a moan that made Tom buck with genuine pleasure. “Your oral skills put us paid boys to shame,” Tom insisted before telling Derek not to bother cleaning up the room. Another regular would be in shortly, one who got off on following someone else, so Tom sprawled naked and arse-up on the bed to flip through the rest of the magazine while Derek dressed.

“Haven’t you earned enough to get out of here?” Derek asked.

“Three times over, but this is the only place I feel safe. Nobody threatens or hits me. I can say no. I have friends. Leave the priesthood to run away with me, and maybe I’ll quit.” Tom’s teasing smirk made him gorgeous enough for anyone to want to kiss him without money changing hands.

Despite Tom’s attractions, banging a residential rent boy didn’t compare to being the Angel of a Sweetheart and wasn’t worth the risk. “This is the only place I feel safe, too,” Derek confessed.

“So we’ll run away to here, get Downstairs jobs and help others feel safe,” Tom said with a delightfully genuine smile.

 _What a beautiful thing to say._ A different light shone on Tom, through him and Derek liked what it revealed about them both. “Maybe we will.” He kissed Tom goodbye.

λ

Two voices argued down the stairs. Tom’s client was refusing to pay and threatened further violence before security intervened. Derek reached them soon after and immediately put a supportive arm around the angry prostitute. One side of Tom’s face had been back-handed rouge. _Like I once stained Archie’s face._ The way Tom relaxed into Derek’s embrace applied a thin layer of sweet-scented balm to old wounds.

“This is supposed to be our safe place,” Tom murmured mournfully as Derek led him to the common room for a cup of tea and the sympathy of his peers.

Once again Derek had failed to protect someone who loved him. He felt wretched for mentally referring to Tom as a rent boy two days ago. _Why do I fail to see how beautiful they are until they’ve been made to feel ugly?_ Derek sat protectively close to Tom and lifted his chin in defiance at a murmur from across the room. Derek did something he should have been brave enough to do with Archie and gently kissed Tom in front of everyone. His lips shook. More voices murmured. A warm hand nervously sliding into his as Tom rested his head on Derek’s shoulder provided an unexpected reward.

November 1982

Young men and old adolescents sat in clumps around two copies of the November _Legally Bare_ , eager to find the _Couple in Focus_.

“Who are they?” an older gentleman asked as he appreciated the view.

“You haven’t heard of Weazl?” a teenager declared as though the other man must have lived in a vacuum. Derek immediately turned then spun to tidy the bookshelf and hide his distress. “Even Father Derek’s heard of Weazl, by the looks.” The boy and two of his friends laughed.

“I’ve met Weazl’s bloke,” Tom boasted quietly. “ _You’re not as alone as you think you are_ —that’s what he told me. He was passing out leaflets for local services at the door of the club Arse played last February, across the road from Where You Bean Coffee Shop…”

“I was at that gig!” the teenager exclaimed and grabbed Tom’s hands in excitement. “They flirted like mad and called each other Darl while Weazl signed leaflets for fans and his dishy little squeeze handed them out. That’s how I found out about this place.”

“Darl,” the group of teenagers swooned in masculine harmony and Derek felt a double flair of jealousy.

That could have been him, touring with Archie as half of an influential couple. _I’d be an idol instead of a disgrace._ He peered over Tom’s shoulder to see this Darl of Archie’s. His gaze cruelly centred on a startling full-page black-and-white photo of Archie’s naked back with Rhett the Proper Poofter’s pale hands tangled in his hair. They kissed at an angle so Archie’s face was in profile. Not just kissed—fucked! Derek knew the particular flex of shoulder muscles and slightly parted lips of an Archie orgasm. His erotic Angel tattoo was proudly displayed but it had been altered into an image more sensually beautiful than when it symbolised Derek. Derek saw it as a further rejection of their past, this time on a national scale.

Fantasies of a brave new life with Tom frayed like a cheap bathmat.

_I should have been part of him forever. Let these years be an ominous vision so I know not to let him go, only hold him closer and declare my love loud enough for them to hear above the insults they throw at us. Give me back my life!_

“Listen to this,” Tom began reading from the main article and Derek abruptly left the room. Muttered queries followed, but not as quickly as Tom. “Derek? …Angel?”

He turned, aching at the sound of that familiar name. He hadn’t been called Angel without paying for that privilege for years. It was a question the last time Archie used it, too. _What we had was so beautiful. I should have answered, told you how wonderful you are and been proud to be known as your boyfriend._

Tom looked directly into Derek’s eyes and then at the magazine closed over his thumb. “I see.” There was more than pained accusation in his gaze as it burned into Derek. “It was never me, or any of us, was it? It was always him. That’s why you’re here. You don’t give an **ounce** of **shit** about us. Did you think he’d be proud of you for this and want you back?”

Older priests warned novices to speak in parable and avoid personal anecdotes. Derek wished he’d listened. People here knew of his regrets without truly understanding them. He had to explain. “Boy prostitutes didn’t exist in my world until Archie admitted to almost being one. That’s his name: **Archie** ; not blasted Weazl. Places like this didn’t exist until Archie brought me to one. He opened my eyes and taught me about love. We talked about running a foster home for abused and neglected children so they wouldn’t make horrifying choices. We were going to make a difference. I— ** _love_** —him! **That** should be **_me_**!” Derek vented his rage through a pointed finger, willing the evidence of rejection to spontaneously combust. It didn’t of course.

“Wake up to yourself Derek! Every male in here feels that way when we read the Couple in Focus. I hoped this,” Tom raised the magazine, “could be us in five years. Not anymore. You’re just another client **Father** , and my fee just doubled.”

Derek tossed his wallet at Tom and walked out past a gaggle of startled onlookers.

λ

Derek was told to continue his duties at the community centre after a series of conferences with his bishop. “Better the devil they know,” was the verdict from on high. There’d been no threat or mention of excommunication, only a call for greater discretion.

The community he served added an extra thorn to his penitent’s crown. A large colour poster unfolded from the centre of an arts magazine held pride of place on the feature wall, the copy of a painting in uniquely familiar style—Rhett’s. _Crucial Fix_ offended Derek’s faith as well as his sensibilities. His nude adult nemesis ascended in the crucifix position through clouds of musical score. Instead of being nailed to a wooden frame his wrists were grasped by the hands of the equally naked man behind him. His ankles were bound by his lover’s feet and his head tilted up and back so they breathed life into each other through an impending kiss. Their open eyes focused on each other.

He’d seen them exchange this look, witnessed the exquisite kiss that followed. The emotional purity of the painting was astounding. He felt the iron maiden close around him again. Rhett had captured the natural colours of their hair and eyes perfectly, yet he represented Archie as unblemished saviour rather than victim. It left Derek breathless. Angel the Sinner reached up to touch Sweetheart the Saint.

“Save me,” Derek begged in a whisper. “If I have a soul left to save, please, if you ever loved me. Save me.”

There was a tap on Derek’s shoulder, a quiet voice in his ear. “Who are you praying to Father Derek?”

“I’m no longer sure Tom, possibly to you.”

Tom’s chin dug viciously into Derek’s shoulder as he asked “Why do you still love him?”

“Read what he says, Tom. Listen to people inspired by him and then ask why I didn’t love him enough when he was mine.” The pressure against Derek’s back receded. He expected to be abandoned, not embraced, but Tom put one hand on Derek’s waist while the other touched the poster of Derek’s nemesis.

“I think he remembered me. We starred in a porno together when we were fourteen. A bunch of older kids and adults drugged us up and made us fuck but he stopped because he knew I was afraid and it hurt. So they hit him. One bitch howled that this was all he was good for and he was ruining it. Some of them held me down while the older blokes in charge tried forcing him to finish the job. He bit, kicked and screamed for us to be let go, begged. They yanked him around by his hair, hit him across the room, and threatened to burn him with matches. Then someone sat on him, and held his face by the cheeks to make him watch Ralph and his friend take turns raping me. That was how Ralph celebrated his buck’s night. He was meant to marry my mother in the morning. Neighbours heard the fuss he kicked up through the music and yelled through the wall that they’d called the police. That battered and terrified boy thought heroes were coming to save us, that somehow we’d won, and he smiled at me. Forget rainbows and shooting stars Derek, that smile is the most beautiful, hopeful thing I’ve ever seen. Everyone turned on him and I ran. 1974. Hopefully my mother thinks I’m dead. God, if she married that… If it wasn’t for your ex-boyfriend’s Darl and this place, I probably would be.”

“I don’t want to believe you.”

Tom’s expression insisted that Derek must. “This is my life Derek, my only honest-to-god confession. All the others were made up because I kept choking on the truth. That man there is the bravest person I’ve ever known. You and I are cowards.” Tom desperately clutched Derek’s wrists.  “Pray for us Father, please. Pray that we’ll find the courage to be more than we’ve become.” The professional prostitute began to cry and the perfidious priest hid behind a façade of duty.

Derek prayed for Tom and resolved never to purchase his wares again.

January 1983

Resistance was painful and less rewarding than Derek anticipated. During daylight hours he was conveniently distracted with weddings, baptisms, Holy Communion, old ladies bickering about Soup Sunday, preparing sermons, and the community centre’s quarterly report. But his desolation weighed heavier with each passing night and he wasn’t the only one feeling this way. A hushed voice barely passed through the mesh in the makeshift confessional. “Are you angry with me for treating you like a priest?”

“No Tom. I’m angry with myself for not behaving like one.”

Hitch of breath and rough exhale preceded Tom’s apology. “I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you. You made time for all of us, sitting in the common room to tell us about your hopes and your mistakes, asking about ours, treating us like people instead of produce. You pray for us when we’re used to being preyed upon. We all love you a bit.”

“Not like he did,” Derek lamented under his breath. Tom heard.

“No. But we’re all looking for that while we’re working, hoping this next punter will be The One. Some of them hope the same thing about us. Hope is everything when it’s all you have. We wouldn’t even have that if not for this place. I felt less like a slut when you favoured me.”

“I’ve been chaste since our last transaction Tom, as I should have been from the start. This project was supposed to be my salvation too,” Derek confessed. “I began believing that we could run away together from whatever brought us here. I thought I could be brave enough to love someone else.”

“Who?” Tom asked in a hush.

“You.”

The pressure of Tom’s open hand against the dividing screen distorted the mesh. Derek copied the gesture. Tom requested one last kiss and Derek said yes please. Their goodbye kiss turned into an hour-long hello. They fell into their old routine as rapidly as they fell into bed and neither regretted one second. _We need this._

“Don’t,” Tom demanded with sad eyes as Derek reached for his slender wallet.

“Abusing your trust is a greater sin than breaking my vows.”

Tom laughed. “So make a donation downstairs. This is the closest to a natural relationship that either of us will get.”

He was right. They were both trapped by fear of the outside world. Derek recognised his priesthood vestments for what they were—a blanket to cower in. Perhaps he could cast aside the persona of Father Derek and become a permanent fixture here as Derek, downstairs supervisor and after-hours lover of Tom, fellow employee. Maybe they’d fall in love and somehow earn enough to run this place together, as a proper couple.

Maybe they could learn to be brave.

March – April 1983

Not much surprised Father Derek, until one of the male prostitutes was diagnosed with a new sexually transmitted disease known as AIDS. The effects of the virus were horrifying, turning the immune system against itself and making common illnesses lethal. Clearly the repeated lectures on ‘no bare-backing for extra cash’ went unheeded. Derek always used condoms when fucking arse and the sick man wasn’t one he frequented before settling down with Tom so he had nothing to worry about…until Tom was diagnosed with the same thing. Sometimes the games they played and toys they used caused abrasions inside Derek’s mouth. Derek had never used condoms for oral because he loved feeling that shot of protein hit the back of his throat or spreading cum on his lips directly from a man’s cock-hole, handling him like an oversized lipstick. Derek didn’t bother containing his fury in the privacy of Tom’s attic room. Let the other residents hear. Maybe this time they’d get the hint. “How many warnings did you need? It’s global news for Christ’s sake! Aren’t syphilis and herpes reason enough to guard yourself?”

“What makes you think this is a recent development? What do you know about AIDS apart from rumours? They said this could have been lurking inside of me for **years**. You can’t terrify it out of me Derek or I’d be cured already!” Tom didn’t argue as violently as Archie so Derek found it easier to regain his composure and join him at the foot of the bed. “I feel like a dog at the pound,” Tom mumbled with hands tucked under his armpits and heels scuffing the floor. “We shouldn’t kiss goodbye in case that passes it on too. I have so many questions Derek and they can’t tell me anything except I’m going to die. They can’t even say when.”

The only comfort Derek had to offer was a hand to hold. Tom resisted the fingers wriggling under his arm, then relented and desperately locked their fingers together. They sat with only an occasional sniffle interrupting the silence as Derek prayed for a cure.

19 May 1983

Tom died within days of contracting tonsillitis.

Despite Father Derek’s efforts, the mortal coil of his lost and lonely lovely boy was destroyed without ceremony.

May – July 1983

Derek turned away from the gay community in his grief. Pretence and denial once again became his way of life as he and focused all his attention on the mainstream congregation. Thorough repentance and obedience to God’s law would protect him. Or so Derek hoped. He was more afraid than he’d ever been in his life but he didn’t get tested. Like the day he ran and hid from his lover and friends, Derek ran and hid from the prospect of having AIDS.

The tiny flock that sought shelter in his community centre sought him out to sustain him and ensure he had not lost faith. He dedicated a portion of his mainstream service to them.

“…for these unfortunate souls have also been granted the gift of Our Father’s love. No heart that is capable of expressing such love as this can truly be described as barren, irredeemable, obscene. Let us pray for their salvation as well as our own.”

December 1983

Maintaining celibacy was no longer difficult. Father Derek was finally able to love his fellow man chastely and selflessly—although he often indulged in incredibly vigorous masturbation while recalling intimately glorious time spent with his previous loves.

The Diocese declared AIDS to be God’s punishment for homosexuality and disassociated itself from the community centre.

Only during the darkest and coldest hours did Derek suspect he was seriously ill. His symptoms were common among too many regular illnesses to cause a thorough panic.

8 April 1984

Derek was summoned to the confessional. “He will only confess to you Father, insisting he has searched many years to do so.” Derek nodded to the cleric and got to his feet. He wondered who the obstinate confessor could be, hoping it might be Archie while knowing it wouldn’t be. Tom’s death and a successful year of celibacy couldn’t cure his homosexuality and he’d given up trying to make sense of it.

λ

“Absolve my sins, oh Father. Or however the traditional words go.

It has been eight years since my last confession and I am no longer a practising Catholic. In my second last year of high school I became enamoured with an openly homosexual youth of similar age. Not enamoured, I fell in love with him and continued to love him for many months after the events I am about to confess.

I repent not of my admiration and affection for the young man, only for the veil of deceit woven to conceal the truth. I kept my homosexuality hidden from my dearest friend. Worse still, I fed you to the wolves. You see Derek…”

λ

“Jonathon?” Derek was certain. Vocal nuances particular to Jonathon Steward coloured the entire monologue.  _Jonathon is gay?!_

“I hoped to broach this subject face to face but doubted whether you would agree to see me.”

“Of course I would! Why wouldn’t I?” _What did I do to make you doubt that?_

“Didn’t you hear me? I fed you to the wolves. It was my fault they found out about you.”

“Meet me at the statue of St Peter behind the small grotto so we can talk properly.” Derek needed time to organise his thoughts. Questions and statements chased each other, demanding first turn like preschool children fighting over the newest tricycle. _Why did you ignore me? I loved you. You’re gay? What do you mean it’s your fault? I needed you and you turned me away. What happened to you? We could have been so happy together. How did you find me? I missed you. Why wouldn’t you see me? Where did you go? You broke my heart._

The irreverent quirk of the man’s lips and grey-green eyes were all that remained of Derek’s Jon. This version was bulkier across the shoulders, neatly bearded, with a white bandanna over his hair and a motorcycle helmet dangling casually from three fingers. No trace of the spunky adolescent lingered in his stance, or those leather pants which perfectly showcased his bum. Derek still found adult Jon incredibly attractive yet somehow less enticing. Derek could imagine adolescent Jonathon grabbing him by the shoulders and crying “Maturity, you’ve finally arrived!” before stunning Derek with a winsome grin. That innate brightness had been dulled by the death of his equally zany friend then somehow Derek made things worse by being gay. But, Jonathon…

“No offence old chap, but you look like pigeon poop! Are you ill?” Jon asked.

“Merely tired,” Derek replied and smiled to hide his fears.

The last vestige of familiarity dropped from Jon’s face. Derek experienced a strange half-memory of teenage Jon glowering like this and yelling at him. He shivered with cold.

“I came to tell you the truth Derek, if you’re going to feed me more falsehoods I may as well go home.”

“I don’t…what falsehoods? What is this about?”

“It’s about you, me—and Weazl.”

“That was years ago. You’re still ticked that I didn’t tell you?”

“I’m ticked about a lot more than you not telling me.”

“If I’d known you were gay…”

“If you’d listened the hundred times I tried to tell you before Andrew’s eighteenth! You had no trouble confiding once you were pissed though, did you Derek? Telling me your miserable shit of a boyfriend never thought you were good enough and that you loved me. I made the mistake of telling you my shitty boyfriend problems and you came onto me in the shower while I was trying to clean you up. How can you not remember that?! You were never my type Derek. You were too busy fucking the one that was.” Jonathon’s metamorphosis was complete. ‘His’ Jon would never have spoken to him like this. ‘His’ Jon couched the worst of everything with humour, no matter how inappropriate. This Jon was a creature of the Wild Wood. “How long have you been ill Derek?” he asked bluntly. Another test, if Derek failed this one there’d be no chance of regaining their friendship. He hadn’t fully adjusted to the fact that Jon was here, and different, and gay.

“I don’t know. It’s just a virus...”

“I know which one.” Jon’s voice was laden with concern that contradicted the cold hardness in his eyes. “How did a priest, sworn to celibacy, get HIV Derek?”

“What makes you think it’s…?”

“We see enough people like you down at the clinic. Those who wait and hope or pretend it can’t happen to them until it’s too late. Is this what your merit-winning community project was about? Were you using your charity cases for sex like you did in high school?”

Derek lashed out. “You told Archie I used him!”

“You did use him.”

“You knew I loved him! I **love** him!”

“Not as much as you love yourself! You fed us all an entire menu of manure. I stopped trusting you weeks before I took Drew and Nigel to _So-So_. I refuse to take anything you say at face value.”

“You…took them there?” _What did that mean?_

“Did no-one tell you? Were you too self-involved to bother asking?”

“ **You** refused to see **me** , remember? I went to your house to talk to you and you sent me an aeroplane in which you stated that as far as you were concerned I’d fallen into a collapsing trans-dimensional tunnel from which there was no chance of escape, and that if I did manage to get free you wouldn’t bother urinating on me if my pubic hair caught fire!” Derek recalled it word-for-word. It was so typically Jonathon yet not at the same time.

“I hated you Derek.”

“Yes I gathered that, thank you Jonathon.”

“You took everything from us and for what? So you could keep getting laid. Remember when your family took Weazl in? That night he left your house he kissed me, did you know that? He suggested coming to my house and I said no, not because I didn’t want to be with him but because he was drunk and upset about his boyfriend. I saw how you were hurting him before I knew it was you. Then when you came onto me, after I told you I was gay you said we could be together now and you wouldn’t have to put up with your boyfriend’s mood swings. What happened to you? I was so jealous of how in love you were with your sweetheart! Not because I fancied you but because I loved someone like that and there were so many obstacles preventing me from telling him. Then you turned into a complete sleaze! When I learned it was **him** , how often you both lied to me, bald lies straight to my face, constantly messing me around and using me. Fucking each other stupid while I disintegrated—and you both knew my life was becoming absolute shit! I hated the pair of you.”

Jon’s hatred was clear. He hadn’t let anything go in the intervening years, merely buried it. He took Nigel and Andrew to that club, on that night, on purpose. Derek wasn’t Jon’s type because some other boy was, Archie. This was all about revenge.

“YOU RUINED MY LIFE!” Derek raged at him. “My family, my friends, the teachers, strangers, all turned against me! My boyfriend! You destroyed any chance I had of a future with Archie. Four months, four more months and school would have been over and we would have lived together. No more lies, no more hiding, me and Archie together forever!”

“Forever? Ha! The moment I came out to you at Andrew’s, you were ready to throw him aside and start up with me and I didn’t even want you! Why would living miles away change that? **You** ruined your life Derek. **You** did!” Jon pointed his index finger into Derek’s chest. “You chose to lie after it had become pointless. If you’d admitted you were together you still would be. No, not true. Weazl would have kicked you aside once his girlie boy found him. You know the one.”

Derek did indeed know the one. He understood Jon’s hatred having nurtured it himself. He sat on the low wall surrounding the church yard, only now becoming aware of their surroundings. _I’m a priest, arguing at the top of my voice on hallowed ground about my first and former boyfriend, my love._

“What happened to us?” Derek asked Jon. He didn’t know how or why everything turned out so wrong. Perhaps he’d been wrong all along. There was nothing natural about his attraction to other men and this life of continual error and temptation was his punishment. He chose to live in Hell when he moved the first bench that first inch closer to Archie; temptingly captivating, antagonising and intensely passionate Archie.

“Fear happened to us Derek, jealousy and distrust. I loved him such a stupidly large amount.” Jon leaped up and began balancing along the low wall toward Derek. “I still do, though not like that.” He nudged Derek’s backside with a motorcycle boot. From this angle and with the sun and shadows crossing his face Jon finally resembled his younger self. Unfortunately it was the bitter, jealous version last seen verbally assaulting Archie in the quadrangle. Jon’s voice turned mournful as he continued. “You ruined everything for all of us Derek; you, me, and Weazl. After you broke up he flinched whenever we passed someone from your family or the Captains Bench in case you passed on the humiliating things he told you, which he never told me. He couldn’t talk about the things he needed to because he worried I’d use them against him if we fought. We made a go of it for a couple of months but thoughts of you kept intruding whenever we tried seriously making out so we agreed to break up and stay friends. As far as girlie boy’s concerned I don’t exist. There are no tattoos on Weazl to remind anyone of his time with me.” Jon squinted up into the late spring sun. “I’m invisible, you see, until his boyfriends stop being so peachy. Then he convinces himself he loves me. Then he convinces me. Not that anything juicy happens between us.” He sighed and looked down at Derek again. “But I can’t turn my back on him. Not after what I did to you. I hate you for breaking him Derek, all definitions apply.”

 _They were together for a couple of months? We broke up in February. I saw him and Glam Boy in May…_ Archie must have got together with Jon straight after ending things with Derek. That hurt far more than the presence of the girlie boy. Derek yearned for Archie for years and the punk had moved on without a thought. Derek took the ear stud from his pocket, held it in his palm and stared at it as he considered throwing it away. It wasn’t the first time.

Jonathon saw the thing in Derek’s hand and swore softly.

“Pathetic, yes?” Derek mocked his perpetual weakness. “I loved him Jon. Not the way I loved you, but I loved Archie. He…” Words failed. Nothing accurately described Archie Tanner.

“He’s the Pied Piper of Homo. Shakes his sexy arse while singing a rousing song and we gaily follow him to our own demise,” Jon said with the kind of humour Derek always associated with his best friend. It brought some normalcy to this surreal conversation, prompting Derek to confide the way he wished he had in high school.

“That’s my Sweetheart. How can we have fought so often and been so in love at the same time?” Without interrupting, Jon sat beside him so their arms touched. For the first time in years Derek found nothing arousing in physical masculine contact. “I never knew entirely where I stood with him. He could turn on me in an instant and I’d have no idea why, then he’d just as suddenly be so sweet and vulnerable. You were like the best of him without the worst and I’d sometimes get confused. I wanted to talk to you about everything.” _Except how nice your bum looked in denim._ “I finally got up the nerve, then you learned your friend died and I thought telling you would make you worry about me, so I didn’t. Then even more turmoil with Archie. Then this community project—honestly Jon, my intentions were honourable. I simply got lonely. The men there didn’t judge me by my failings and I needed their contact more each time. I didn’t exploit them, I promise. We kept them off the streets, helped them find medical care. Then Tom, he, we—I tried!” His informal confession fell on compassionate ears.

“We made similar mistakes it seems. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. You seemed so sure of yourself! I never suspected you needed me too. You had so many girl friends that I thought were girlfriends, and you’re **gay**! That remains the biggest surprise of the day.”

“Still not my type,” Jon said with a nudge to Derek’s shoulder so the words didn’t sting. Then he gently closed Derek’s fingers over the metal stud and guided the fist into Derek’s pocket, as though he understood everything it represented. “Get tested Derek, please. I can’t continue hating you if you die like this.”

Derek promised. He could face anything now he had his Jon back.

21 May 1984

Jon sat by Derek’s side while he received his prognosis. The news was the worst.

Derek became numb.

Jon remained supportive, though not entirely sympathetic. He contacted the Landon family on Derek’s behalf while Derek had the necessary conversation with his bishop. Some cover story would be issued to the congregation to prevent shaming God’s Church and that was all the sympathy he received. It would be a different matter if Derek had cancer, the socially acceptable medical horror of the day. Then his last days would be filled with floral arrangements, children’s drawings, and sympathetic casseroles. He could imagine his sweetheart’s reaction if it had happened to some other priest while they were together: “That’s bollocks Angel! That lot bend over backwards, forwards and sideways to ‘forgive’ the kiddie-touchers in their midst but tell some poor poofter priest he’s on his own just because he gets sick? Bollocks!”

Jon said he saw that coming although the behaviour of Derek’s family sent him on an equally passionate yet less profane rant. Sue expressed sympathy but refused to any contact with her tainted brother. Bethany Landon ended the call at the mention of her son’s name.  “I didn’t get to speak to your father at all. Sorry old chap.”

Derek shrugged dejectedly. “What did you expect Jonathon? I’m the shame of the family.” He felt as unwanted and unloved as the day Archie punched him in the face, except this time Jonathon refused to abandon Derek to his fate and insisted Derek stay with him while undergoing treatment. Derek’s protests became more vehement when he learned Jon lived with a long-term partner.

“Logan would rather you stay with us than I stay with you.” Jon’s expression sharpened and he raised both hands to silence Derek. “Argue all you like but we’re sticking together through this. We abandoned our friendship over a boy before, Derek and it isn’t happening again. Besides, who else have you got?”

Derek’s jaw moved silently and he gestured uselessly. Jon clearly felt the need to do this.

“Trust me.”

Derek did.

23 May 1984

The elegant stone house was almost as neatly maintained as Archie’s, yet completely devoid of ambient menace. Jon and Logan’s main living area was the most comfortable room Derek had ever been in. Walls and soft furnishings were coloured with warm, masculine tones. Objects from a multitude of cultures were displayed between motorcycle memorabilia, mementos of relationship milestones, and family photographs. Numbness lost its hold over Derek.

“Why is this happening to me?” he asked tearfully. _Am I such a terrible person that I’ll never deserve a life like this? Were my mistakes so heinous?_

Jon had no explanation to offer as he settled his reluctant visitor into the smallest guest room. “It gets the most winter daylight and isn’t as hot as the others in summer. Plus it’s closer to the main bathroom.” It was also pale yellow with pastel flowers embroidered in the lace curtains. Jon noticed Derek’s slight grimace. “Nephew complains about the frilly bits too but since he’s outnumbered by three god-daughters and his sister… They’re all from my side. Logan’s grandmother is the only member of his family to acknowledge him since he came out. He finds my tribe a tad intimidating at times.”

“Your family…do they all know?”

“My parents told me they knew about a month before Ronnie’s death. Brendan and his wife are alright. Duncan’s a neo-Nazi. Not sure what gives Duncan more conniptions: my sexuality or Logan’s Scottish convict/Australian Aboriginal ancestry.”

That explained why the dark-skinned man in the photos didn’t resemble the few British Africans Derek had met. “Why are there pictures missing?” Derek pointed to cleverly hidden gaps in the displays.

Jonathon shrugged. “Things don’t always get put back in the same place after dusting.”

“I thought we agreed: no falsehoods if I’m staying with you. It works both ways.”

The brief flash of Jonathon’s familiar grin seemed like a blessing. “Logan and I thought it best to keep some things hidden for now, in case they upset you.”

“I hired prostitutes Jonathon, often two at a time. It takes a lot to offend me.”

“Two? I bet he never predicted that.” Jon seemed to say to himself.

“Who?”

“Never mind. I need coffee. Share your smutty stories while it percolates.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” The majority of Derek’s shame came from knowing he wouldn’t be ashamed at all if he hadn’t contracted this disease. He’d still be carrying on just the same and loving it.

“Good. Because I don’t actually want to hear them,” Jon declared with a smile that missed his eyes.

Derek wondered how much Jon knew. He didn’t ask.

29 May 1984

Derek wandered through the unfamiliar town. He bounced the piece of something great he threw away yet could not properly relinquish between the fingers and palm of one hand. He didn’t talk to anyone in case a local linked Derek the Diseased to his hosts and sent a lynch mob after them. After travelling every path in the tiny CBD he learned that only one place offered piercing. He entered the hairdressing salon with a shaking step. Jon knew now, and Derek had a promise to keep…

Jon didn’t mention the sudden appearance of a foreign object in Derek’s left lobe but his expression delivered a lengthy lecture.

“I know it’s too late. It isn’t as though…” _he’ll forgive me or love me again, not when I’m like this_ “he’ll know. It’s the only promise I’ve been able to keep.”

“You haven’t told…?” Logan began to ask Jonathon but Jon subtly shook his head ‘no’ and Logan changed the question by pointing to his dinner plate, “me where you found these, Love. What are they again?”

Derek excused himself from the table. “Sorry, can’t eat anymore.”

His co-hosts assured him no explanation was necessary. He ignored the whispered discussion that followed him down the hallway despite such tantalising phrases as ‘more secrets?’ in an accusatory tone and ‘say what exactly?’ in defence. They were clearly discussing the love of his life, which ticked Derek off. _Do the missing photos feature Archie?_ _Why could he stay friends with Jon but completely turn his back on me?_ At least Jon hadn’t told him Derek was here, which was a relief. Archie must never know. Derek understood why Archie wanted to keep his dreadful past hidden. _Why couldn’t I have known all this_ then _?_

λ

Derek wrote seven simple words on fancy writing paper then wrote the recipient’s name on the matching envelope with a nervous hand. Derek was tempted to rip it in half since he didn’t know where to send it. The words were coming nine years too late as it was. No, he may have been too cowardly to tell him in person but Archie deserved to know he’d never been forgotten.

Derek needed to lie beside his sweetheart and talk like they had during that incredible summer. This time Derek would share his real-life horror story while Archie comforted him. They’d fall in love again and stay that way…

That’s how it happened in his dream, anyway.

4 June 1984

The left earlobe became infected. _I can’t even succeed at making a futile gesture._ The stud was removed at his doctor’s insistence. “Nothing goes into your body but food and the medications **_I_** administer. Perhaps once we boost your immunity you can try again.”

Derek was still in the early phase of treatment. He would have no control of his own body until he healed—or died.

5 June – August 1984

Life revolved around a regime of experimental retroviral medications that either eased some symptoms while aggravating others, did nothing at all, or made everything worse. Derek’s worst days usually involved painful groaning, vomit, and once horrific hallucinations caused by oxygen deprivation due to an allergic reaction that almost killed him while they pumped him full of antihistamine. He’d never been more grateful for Jon’s persistent presence, even if Jon had been holding Derek’s hand so tight he twisted Derek’s wrist at a painful angle and sprained it. Derek reached over with his other hand and gripped Jon’s hand just as tight once he was finally able to take a normal breath. Their panicked stares met and Jon’s strangle grip relaxed.

“Jesus Derek, everything has to be about you,” Jon said hoarsely. The harried emergency team turned to glance with curiosity at Derek’s dry chortle and then they laughed.

Jonathon drolly argued against Derek leaving the property without an escort after the allergy incident, but Derek insisted on taking morning and evening walks alone, when it didn’t hurt to move. His malingering presence was putting intense strain on Jon’s otherwise idyllic relationship with Logan. The couple argued but never loudly or in front of Derek, as though he was a child. Derek was familiar with the atmosphere of enforced abstinence which only shortened their tempers. The only way he could repay them was to provide privacy by booking himself in for a clinical trial that involved overnight observation. Jon’s flustered apology for being late to collect him proved Derek’s instincts were right. The house felt brighter when they returned. Derek had no right to be mad. He’d been late meeting Jonathon for similar reasons.

September 1984

Logan arranged an outdoor lounge set in a pleasant patch of garden so Derek and Jon could spend Derek’s coherent time outside on fine days talking about everything but impending death, funeral arrangements, or the legal furore connected to both. Derek preferred to deal with that on his own. The other topic not for discussion was never mentioned, not even to state that it was out of bounds. Other relationships were discussed in depth so Jon soon knew all about Tom, Derek knew that Jon’s first boyfriend—“Scott?! As in: college Cat in the Hat with the motorbike Scott, that Scott?”

“Yes Derek, that Scott.”—had broken up with Jon mere hours after their friend’s funeral. “He seemed to think my moral objections to public fornication were a sign of immaturity. But the bit that utterly destroyed me was finding out that he had someone else on standby frequently giving him what I wouldn’t, another **friend**. My final year of school gave me ‘compounded trust issues’. Can’t see why,” Jon added in the droll manner that had drawn Derek, Andrew and Nigel to him.

“I loved you Jon,” Derek told him sincerely. “You were the most important friend in my life almost from the moment we met. I would never have knowingly approached a boy you were interested in. I did wonder occasionally whether I’d feel differently about you if… I can only apologise for the mistakes I made.”

“ **We** , Derek, are here now because you were also the most important friend in my life before,” Jon blew a raspberry and made a gesture that made Derek think of exploding soufflé, “and **we** have these unnatural yearnings to make amends because years of Sunday school told us contrition and being willing to forgive those who’ve wronged us brings us closer to becoming angels.”

“Tom stopped calling me that once he knew why…” Derek began to whisper mournfully. “He probably knew, right up to the end, that I still compared them.” He looked to Jon, hoping for further absolution and saw that hollow expression again on his friend’s face.

“That’s why you’ve never been my type Derek. I refuse to act the whore,” Jon said abruptly. “Or settle for one,” he added then strode inside.

λ

Jealousy bit deep one afternoon when he wandered inside to refresh his drink and found his hosts cuddling against the kitchen sink while washing the lunch dishes. Logan stood behind Jonathon, one hand rubbing Jon’s arm from shoulder to bubble shrouded wrist then clamping around it as his lips caressed the opposite side of Jon’s neck and jaw. “The deep love you have for your friends is a big part of why I love you Jonathon. If I give the impression that I’m jealous of Derek or Archie it’s only because I’m worrying about how much you worry over them. You’ve grown up a lot in eight years. No doubt they have too. Well, maybe Derek has. I only see signs of the disastrous brat you say you were when that other mischief maker’s around.”

Derek realised he couldn’t see Logan’s other hand when he heard a soft, guttural vowel sound from Jon. Derek’s knees wobbled and his balls quivered.

“So no Jonathon, I’ll never regret letting you invite your friends into our home, whatever the circumstances. Just remember we’re **home**. It’s our right to be intimate within these walls and my **absolute** privilege to make love with you in our bed—or kitchen.” Logan took his hand from Jon’s pants and washed it in the sink full of dishes. “Better freshen up that water Love,” he teased with happy affection and ducked as Jon flicked bubbles into his dark curls.

Derek backed out of the room without being seen as the life-partners splashed bubbly, grubby water at each other. Instead of going outside he went to his borrowed room to think and listen to their laughter.

The casual hand job made quite an impression, mostly because it was so subtle. The assertive yet tender way Logan spoke to Jonathon, their ambient affection, playfulness injected into a serious moment—those were the elements that inspired envy because they represented patience, forgiveness, trust, happiness, security, the freedom to express and receive love. For less than twelve sequential hours Derek and Archie managed to make that romantic ideal a reality. Then everything changed and it became easiest to soothe every wound with lust. He puzzled over Jon’s whore remark from the other day. How was what Derek witnessed in the kitchen different to the way he and Archie resolved their issues?

Everything, Derek realised, because Logan and Jon were already happy together. They didn’t need or resort to sex to force the issue. Derek understood something else about Jonathon too and punched him in the face the very next time they shared house space.

“Never call Archie a whore, **never**.” He waited for Jon to retaliate.

Jon tenderly touched his lip and cheek while gesturing for Logan to keep out of it. “It’s about time you stood up for him.”

Derek gawped like a catatonic and Logan smiled proudly at Jonathon’s profile.

“You’ve got an appointment in half an hour. Feel brave enough to come on the bike?” Jon asked as he had every other time it wasn’t raining, when Derek hadn’t just tried to smash his face in.

“Um,” Derek glancing at Logan to be sure Jon wasn’t planning to upend the motorcycle into a ditch, “yes, alright.”

October 1984

“Did Barrington and the school chaplain give you the ‘sex corrupts’ lectures?” Jon asked Derek while they waited for the intravenous drip to fill Derek’s blood with a fresh batch of retroviral armour.

“Barrington, chaplain, priests, bishops, some beatnik supposedly able to ‘ _inspire_ ’ the homo out of my sexuality,” Derek said with a flourish of hands to further emphasise inspire.

Jonathon chuckled. “Good lord, he sounds gayer than we are!”

“He probably was since it turns out he had what I have.”

“It isn’t a gay disease, Derek,” Jon pointed out gently but firmly.

“How do you know so much more about it than I do?”

Jon looked at his hands, a tree, fornicating blowflies. Derek’s heart forgot to do its job for a moment then hurried along to meet the appropriate per minute quota.

“A friend is very active in funding research and awareness programs. Logan may only be a rural GP but any information either can pass on to the other soon becomes property of the wider gay community.”

“Does this friend have…?” Derek couldn’t finish the question. Dread filled his eyes, disguised as impending tears and blurring his vision. He adamantly blinked it away.

“No, he doesn’t. But we’re all losing friends because of it.”

“Speaking of lost friends-”

“ _Derek said to dispel the pall of impending gloom_ ,” quipped Jonathon.

Derek grinned briefly and Jon smiled honestly back. Derek eventually broached the subject they’d steadfastly skirted by asking if Jon kept in contact with anyone from school.

“We truly are out of conversation starters, aren’t we?”

“We’re boring old men, reliving our youth is all we’ve got left.”

Jon straightened in his wicker chair and stretched out his legs. “As a matter of fact I do. Drew Fitzgibbon, if you can believe that. It’s through him I found out you’d taken vestments. You officiated, performed, whatever the priestly word is for ‘did’ his nephew’s christening.”

“The same Andrew who threw indescribable yet obviously vile objects at me and called me ‘arse fucking faggot maggot’ or something equally juvenile?” asked Derek with a sneer his high-school sweetheart would have been proud of.

“Really?” asked Jonathon while leaning forward with a thoughtful frown. “I heard Nigel and some others vandalised your car then tried to blame the Wild Wood, because they were utter pricks to me too when I came back, but that’s not quite the reaction Drew had toward me. I can only hope he’ll stop trying to persuade me out of my pesky preference for penis-wielding partners. Although, he doesn’t ‘ _inspire_ ’ me like your beatnik…” Jon copied Derek’s gesture from earlier, with extra camp, and Derek laughed.

“Anyone else?” prompted Derek without subtlety. His skin hurt, all the time. He wanted to know how and why Archie forgave Jon but not Derek. _Jon, who thinks you’re a pair of whores._

“Remember Stephanie Moody?” Jon asked as he took a photo from his wallet. “This was taken at her twenty-fifth birthday last year.” He hesitated before handing it across to Derek. “I’m sure you’ll recognise the ginger fellow.”

Derek’s fingertip caressed the neatly presented ginger-nut standing slightly off to one side. This was how he’d imagined Archie in their daydream future, with civilised hair in civilised clothes and without all that metal in his skin. Except more ghosts had become imprisoned behind those hazel irises since they were last a couple. _My poor Sweetheart, did I do this to you? Will telling you I love you fix anything?_ “Is that Archie?” he asked.

“That’s Weazl.”

“Weazl was a feral costume,” Derek said with distaste. He didn’t take his eyes of the gorgeous man. “This is who he should have been all along.”

“ **That** is who he’s always been,” Jon said rather snappishly. “It’s all him Derek. He’s still a complete Arse Weazl beneath that veneer of normal. You can’t separate the two.”

Derek almost wrenched his neck as he looked up at Jon with surprise. “You loved him either way, didn’t you?”

“I love him every way but the way I love Logan,” Jon softly acquiesced. “You’ll notice Steph has hair.” Jon adroitly changed subjects. Derek would never have recognised the jovial blonde woman amid the quartet of men. Jon and Logan were easily recognisable but the blond man embracing Stephanie was a complete stranger. “That Norse god behind her is her fiancé Joel. I believe you’ve met the tall, dark handsome man with his arms around me.”

Derek’s eyes couldn’t stray from Archie for long. That old overwhelming greed returned. “Where’s his girlie boy then? Did he take the photo?”

“They broke up before this was taken...”

_Rejoice!_

Derek declined Jon’s reluctant offer to pass on Archie’s number. There was no point. Archie wouldn’t talk to him and if he did they’d only fight. They’d always fought. Derek preferred to cherish the rare blissful moments than relive how much his lover hated him at the end.

November 1984

They’d run out of ways to pass the time without becoming melancholy so Derek insisted Jon read from the Complete Works of Alfred Tennyson. Jon hated those poems to such an extent he couldn’t help but paraphrase and his rewording never failed to make Derek laugh, even when they’d been preparing for exams, even now when Jon sat with him through another no doubt futile round of treatment.

“Are you only doing this because I accused you of ruining my life?” Derek quipped after chortling over _The Lady of Chive and Cheese_.

“Yep! Logan said I need to let go of the hate in order to fully embrace love. Looks like it’s working,” Jon declared with a cheeky smile.

Derek could see in his friend’s eyes that he didn’t have long. He’d stubbornly pierced his ear again the week before yesterday, doing it himself after heating the tip with a flame like he’d seen Archie do, and infection immediately moved in. He was dying anyway. His eyes, skin, chest, abdomen and nostril linings hurt. “One last favour Jon,” he said with unsteady resolve. “He won’t want to hear it, but would you tell Archie I’m sorry? Please?”

“Tell him yourself.”

“My own relations prefer to think of me as already dead.”

“One final act of courage Derek, prove he was important to you. He needs constant reassurance that he’s loveable, just like you do.”

Jonathon placed the telephone on Derek’s lap, repeated the number until Derek recited it correctly, and then left him alone to make the call.

Archie wasn’t home so Derek left a message—with his wife! Derek was nothing less than stunned. “Archie married a woman, Wren! How…?”

Jon was clearly unsurprised and unimpressed by this turn of events. “Well, after Cheng died of a heroin overdose Weazl and Wren sought solace, together. He must have needed some serious consoling because he managed to get her pregnant. Rhett found out the rumours weren’t rumours and justifiably left, so the other two got married. Stubborn turd refused to be talked out of it. He loves his daughter, but things aren’t entirely peachy at the Weazl house.”

Derek remembered Archie’s haunted eyes from the photograph. “Is this my fault?” _I’m the one who taught him to solve everything with sex._

“We’re all at fault. None of us are innocent. That’s why we need more homosexually active priests,” Jonathon said with familiar gusto.

Derek started to laugh…

…and didn’t finish.

 

* * *


End file.
